


Siren's Song

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cultural Differences, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of blood and violence, Mer!AU, Merman!Bilbo, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Thilbo, bagginshield, merman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-07-10 05:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15942377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: Thorin had heard many tales about sirens and their bewitching voices, and how nobody who heard a single word from their lips could resist their spell, but moved blind-eyed into doom. And yet here he was, talking to a merman who was enchanted by his voice in turn.On the day Thorin saves a merchild from the net of a fisherman, he gets caught in a different kind of net himself - a stronger yet subtle one, woven by a curious merman who has been dreaming of the surface world all his life long.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally back with a fairy tale/mythological AU! ^-^
> 
> Ever since writing 1001 Wishes, I wanted to write a fic where Bilbo is a mythological creature - and now I've turned him into a merman ;)
> 
> I originally planned to post this fic throughout summer, but a long period of barely writing anything has put an end to that plan ... but I'm doing my best to present the next chapter to you soon! I hope you enjoy this first chapter! :)

Sometimes it felt strange how familiar the sight of the sea had become.

Born in the mountains, Thorin could never have imagined such a vast amount of water. He had known the quick streams that cascaded down the rocks, of course, and the mirror-like lakes that were nestled between the mountain’s arms. But the sea … well, that was something entirely different.

The first time he had stood on the shores of Harlindon Thorin had just stared. He had noticed nothing else but the endless sea, glittering in the sunlight in countless shades of blue. Only slowly had he realized other things: the smell of salt in his nose, the crisp wind combing through his tresses, the sound of the waves, soft as a song … an unfamiliar yet pleasant sense of lightness.

He hadn’t known the sea for half of his life, but he had found a home on its shore.

There was a small town nearby, but he didn’t dwell there. Whenever the people there spoke of their home, they said: “We live in town.” They didn’t say: “We live by the sea.” It had always deemed Thorin strange to say such a thing. The sea was so beautiful, and they seemed to ignore it. But then again, many things the humans in town said or did deemed him strange – just as they thought him strange in turn. Thorin didn’t have any illusions about that. He knew that they thought him odd and unsociable, and wild rumours were circulating about the dwarf who dwelt alone on the shore. But he was a talented blacksmith and they were in need of his craft, so they had decided not to ask him if he was a banished criminal or something worse – at least not directly. Instead they left him alone and only spoke to him about business. After three years he was still a stranger to them, but he didn’t care.

Moreover, he preferred not to live directly amongst them, but on the shore. Therefore he had built his little home in a remote bay, a bit more than half an hour’s walk from town. On the landside it was sheltered by some resilient trees, and the rocky arms of the bay protected it from the highest waves whenever the sea became rough. The sight he was offered on the sea from all around his home was breath-taking. Thorin was happy to fall asleep with the sound of the waves in his ears and to wake up to the same calming sound again. He had even built a small forge next to his cottage. There was another one in town, too, a bigger one, but not better equipped than Thorin’s, and his work in there wasn’t accompanied by the sounds of the rolling waves.

Thorin went into town only once a week, twice if necessary. Then his forge was open, and people came to him with rusty tools and pots with broken handles and blunt knives, and he fixed them. He earned a little coin, and then he returned into his quiet bay with some supplies, sometimes with more tools to repair until his next visit in town. His work wasn’t the most strenuous or exciting, but it was enough to fill his belly with food, and from time to time he could put some coins aside for his sister.

It had been one of his days in town, and he was on his way back home when he heard the sobbing.

Thorin’s heart clenched painfully at once – it was the sound of a crying child. He dropped his bundle and began to search the rocky shore. He could only hope that he was mistaken after all. Some of the children from town, however, were quite adventurous. Maybe some had gone to explore the beach, had climbed over the rocks and had eventually stumbled and hurt themselves.

He found no trace of anyone on the rocks, though. There were only gulls, and they fled at his approach. But the sobs, although irregular now, didn’t cease. The dwarf closed his eyes and listened attentively. There was a long pause, and he was already beginning to think that the sobbing might have stopped completely. But then he heard it again, faint now, and he followed the sound into a small bay. It wasn’t easy to access, and he had to climb across some sharp rocks. He knew that there was a true maze of tiny bays and spits in this area. Some of them were quite popular amongst the fishermen, and they often cast their nets out into the water there. There was a net attached to the rocks right in front of him now, and Thorin stopped dead as he saw what was caught in it.

It was a boy.

He had gotten tangled in the meshes of the net, and it almost looked as if he had fallen asleep. He didn’t move and let his dark-curled head droop. But Thorin knew better – the boy had given up all tries to free himself. He wanted to get closer, but then he heard the splashing of water. With a sudden cry the boy reared up, and Thorin’s eyes widened as his lower body broke through the water’s surface. It was shaped like a fish’s fin. Drops of water glistened on its bright green scales, and then it already disappeared in the water again.

Thorin stared at the boy. He could hardly believe that he was looking at one of the merfolk.

The people in town didn’t talk of them often, and if then only in hushed voices. The dwarf had heard stories, told by old fishermen and sailors, about creatures that lived deep, deep down in the sea. They knew everything that happened in their waters and had a sharp eye on every boat that entered their realm. Most of the time they only watched while remaining unseen themselves, but some of the seafarers knew other stories – stories about how one of the merfolk had saved a sailor from drowning after shipwreck, or how a merman had brought a sunken treasure to a poor widow, or … Well, then came the other stories – stories about merfolk causing storms, tearing whole ships into a cold and wet grave, or about mermaids luring sailors into death with their beautiful and treacherous voices.

Thorin didn’t think that the poor boy could cause any harm.

He looked up as the dwarf stepped closer. Panic stood in his blue eyes, and he fought violently against the net that held him captive. Water splashed, and the green scales broke through the surface again.

Thorin stopped at once and raised his hands to show that they were empty. “I won’t hurt you”, he said in his softest voice. “Calm down, please. You’ll only get entangled further.”

The boy seemed to understand him. His movements ebbed away, and Thorin got closer. “I will try to help you. Don’t be afraid.” Each of his movements was watched by scared eyes, but finally he stood on the rocks the net was attached to.

From here he saw the thin lines on the boy’s neck, and he realized with fascination that those were gills. But he also noticed where the child’s hands had got caught in the net; the rope had dug deep into his skin and had left bloody marks. The child trembled with fear and exhaustion, and it uttered a strangled cry as Thorin reached for its right hand.

The dwarf made a soothing sound, but withdrew his hand nonetheless. “It’s alright”, he said quietly. “I’m here to help you, and I will be careful. I will try to loosen the rope, okay?” He reached for the merchild’s wrist again; he could feel its hammering pulse beneath his fingers. “I’ve never seen one of your kind here”, he said while examining the slippery rope; the net had obviously been in use for some years. “Have you lost your way? You remind me of the hobbits with your pointed ears and curly hair. They live east of here in a place they call the Shire. I travelled through their country a few times.” He barely noticed what he said, he just hoped that his voice would soothe the boy.

Eventually, however, he fell silent and frowned. “I have to cut the ropes”, he explained. “I have to use my knife for that. Don’t be afraid – I will be careful.”

For the first time, the boy looked directly into his face. His blue eyes were glassy and he bit his lips, but he nodded. A soft gasp escaped him as Thorin drew his knife, but he stayed still.

Cautiously the dwarf pulled the rope as far away from the boy’s skin as possible without hurting him any further. The child winced, and Thorin waited a moment before he brought the blade into the gap he had created. He moved it slowly until the rope snapped. “It’s working”, he encouraged the boy. “Not much longer, and you are free.” One by one he cut the meshes until the first hand was freed. Too weak to hold it up any longer, the boy let it drop into the water. Thorin would have expected the boy to flinch as the salt water probably burned in his wounds, but he seemed to welcome the feeling instead.

“Just one more”, the dwarf said with an encouraging smile and changed his position on the rocks to have better access to the other hand. Thorin repeated the procedure, causing one piece of the rope after the other to snap until the boy’s left hand was freed as well.

With an astonished sound, the dark-curled creature leapt away from the rocks. It plunged into the water, and the bright green scales shone in the sunlight once more before they disappeared as well. Thorin watched the spot, but the boy didn’t come up again. He imagined that the child would avoid the surface for some time now.

Thorin removed the net from the rocks as quickly as he could. He frowned as he gathered the wet slippery rope in his arms, but he couldn’t leave it there. One missing net wouldn’t ruin any of the fishermen, and nobody would have to go hungry either. But maybe the boy hadn’t been alone, but had been playing with friends, and Thorin didn’t want another child to get caught in the net. Besides, its owner would wonder about the cuts and would probably ask questions. It was better if the whole net disappeared in Thorin’s shed, and the man believed he hadn’t attached it properly and had thus lost it to the sea.

With his heavy load, Thorin returned to his home. The sun had almost reached the horizon when he finally stood on his veranda. Only a few more steps into the shed, and he would be rid of the net.

Suddenly he heard the call of a bright voice. The weight in his hands was almost forgotten, and he turned to see a small figure with dark curls in the water.

The boy raised an arm to wave at him. “Thank you!”

Thorin returned the gesture with a smile, and he didn’t even frown as the wet ropes slipped through his arms and he had to pick them up again.

 

***

 

A few days later, the people in town were still wondering how one of the most experienced fisherman had managed to lose one of his nets to the waves, but Thorin didn’t pay them much attention. He seldom did, and in this case he was mainly listening to find out if anybody mentioned strange creatures, or if his involvement had become known. Nobody, however, talked about him or merfolk.

There hadn’t been much work for him that day, so he had headed home with his supplies shortly after noon. Now he sat on one of the rocky spits that surrounded his house like protecting arms, idly carving some piece of wood into a toy. A gift for Fíli – it already looked vaguely like a lion, and his nephew loved those animals. He was softly singing to himself, his voice barely louder than the murmur of the waves.

Being absorbed in his work like this, it took him some time to notice that he was being watched. At first it was nothing more than a strange feeling that had him look up from the piece of wood in his hands. There was nothing, however, but the calm surface of the sea. The feeling passed, and Thorin concentrated on his carving again, humming quietly. Years on the road had taught him to be careful, though, and from time to time he cast a glance at the sea. Long minutes went by, but eventually he noticed a movement amidst the waves.

He looked up, and he almost let his knife drop as he realized that he was being watched indeed – by one of the merfolk. It wasn’t the boy he had met a few days ago, but what seemed to be a grown-up man. Bright blue eyes watched him from beneath a heap of copper curls, obviously delighted at his sight. So far, the stranger had kept some distance, but now he swam closer until he would be able to touch Thorin’s knees if he stretched himself.

“You are the singer”, the merman said merrily.

“I … I’m sorry?” Thorin stared at the being in wonder.

“It’s you – the singer!” The merman placed both his hands flat on the rocks and pushed himself out of the water, thus revealing his lower body. It was covered with scales in a dark green, richer than emeralds, and thin golden lines ran across them like veins through stone. Water drops glistened on them, and Thorin couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“You … you’ve got beautiful scales”, he heard himself stammering.

At once the merman sank back into the water until it reached up to his chin. A heavy blush covered his cheeks, and the tips of his pointed ears had turned red as well. “Keep your eyes up where they belong”, he muttered bashfully.

“I’m sorry”, Thorin hurried to say. “I didn’t mean to insult you, or to say something … something inappropriate. You, ahem, were looking for me?”

The merman seemed to ease again, at least he didn’t hide himself completely in the water anymore. It covered him up to his shoulders now, and Thorin could see the delicate marks of his gills. “I was. You see, my nephew got entangled in one of those cruel nets a few days ago. But you saved him.”

Thorin smiled softly. “I hope he is feeling better again?”

“He is, thank goodness. His parents and I were worrying sick. We didn’t know where he had gone, or if he had been lost, or even caught …” The merman sank deeper into the water with unease. “We were so glad when Frodo returned to us. And he told us so much about the land-dweller who saved him that I wanted to catch a glimpse of you. But I already know you!” His eyes brightened up. “You are the singer! Sometimes when I come to the surface I can hear you sing, and I always stay to listen.”

Thorin blinked in surprise. He had heard many tales about sirens and their bewitching voices, and how nobody who heard a single word from their lips could resist their spell, but moved blind-eyed into doom. And yet here he was, talking to a merman who was enchanted by _his_ voice in turn. Once or twice his tail fin broke through the surface with a twitch, almost as if he couldn’t control his excitement. There was something undeniably charming about his unveiled enthusiasm.

“You’re doing me a great honour”, the dwarf said, “and I thank you for your kind words. My name is Thorin, by the way.”

“Thorin”, the merman repeated solemnly, making sure to pronounce it correctly. The next moment he was showing him a smile again. “I’m Bilbo. So, Thorin … You aren’t one of those fishermen, are you? I sometimes watch them when they set to sea, but you are different from them.”

“I am a dwarf”, he explained. “I live here close to the town of the humans, but I was born far away in the mountains.”

Bilbo scrunched his nose. “Mountains? What does that mean?”

Finally Thorin put his carving knife and the piece of wood away; he had quite forgotten that he was still holding on to them. He shifted his position to sit more comfortably on the rocks. “A mountain is a true giant of stone, and it rises far above the ground. Some of them are so tall that they seem to touch the sky.” He made a vague gesture towards the East, towards the Ered Luin. They were little more than pale blue shades far, far away in the distance, however.

“Oh, then I’ve seen mountains myself!” Bilbo placed his hands on the rocks and raised himself out of the water – not enough to reveal his scales again, but to look into the direction Thorin was pointing. The dwarf noticed the fine webs between his fingers. They were almost see-through, but had a pearly shine. “They rise from the sea floor, and the tallest ones break through the surface. But your mountains sound far more interesting.”

“But you live in the sea – that must be fascinating! When I saw the sea for the first time, I was enchanted at once, and I decided to stay.”

“Do you not miss the mountains? At least sometimes?” Bilbo was still gazing towards the horizon. The longing in his eyes was palpable, and its intensity had Thorin lower his eyes.

“I do, but it’s … difficult.” Absent-mindedly, he reached for the half-finished wooden toy and twisted it between his fingers. “What I miss is my family – my sister and my little nephews. They live in the Ered Luin, in a dwelling of our folk. It’s not too far from here, a march of a few days. I visit them as often as I can, and still …” He took a deep breath. “It’s not often enough.”

He stopped fidgeting with the toy as he felt a soft, cool touch. Bilbo had cautiously placed a hand on his arm. Some water drops clung to him, and the webs between his fingers felt like a fragile veil on Thorin’s skin.

The dwarf showed him a weak smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be gloomy. Would you like to hear more about the mountains?”

The merman nodded. For a moment he still looked somewhat concerned, but his curiosity quickly won. “Do you really know more stories?”, he asked with excitement. “Or even songs?”

“I do know some songs indeed”, Thorin replied, suddenly feeling bashful. He hadn’t sung to somebody else for a long time – his last audience had been his nephews, and they had been little more than pebbles, and easy to entertain at that. He didn’t think a being so closely related to sirens would actually enjoy his voice.

One look in Bilbo’s eyes, however, eased his nervousness. Blue they were, blue like the ocean and just as deep. Their hue seemed to change slightly from one moment to the other just like the water did, and there was something soothing about the gentle way they watched him.

Thorin smiled at Bilbo, and then he began to sing. It was a song his mother had taught him when he had been a child, and the memory of her sweet voice singing to him sent a pleasant warmth through his body. He didn’t raise his voice, but kept it quiet and soft, thus forming a contrast to the throaty words of his native tongue. He closed his eyes, and the images of a snow-capped mountain, of vast halls full of voices and laughter and of a family gathered around the fireplace came to life.

Eventually the last lines passed his lips. His song was followed by silence; even the sound of the waves washing against the rocks had ebbed away. He blinked, actually surprised to find himself on the shore of the great sea again. Still a bit dazed, his eyes searched for Bilbo.

The merman in turn was watching him with an enchanted expression on his face. “What a beautiful song”, he whispered. “But it’s a sad one, too. What is it about?”

“It’s a song about the fall of Khazad-dûm. It tells the story of two lovers who get separated during the flight. They wander all across Middle-Earth, searching for each other for long, long years. Actually the song is meant to be performed by two singers, one for each of the lovers.”

“And the ending?”, Bilbo asked. “Is it a happy one?” There was real concern in his voice; the song had obviously touched him deeply.

Thorin was glad that he could answer his question with a nod. “The lovers find each other in the last stanza. It gets sung by both performers at once. I skipped it, though – it doesn’t feel right to sing it all by myself, you know.”

“Oh, what a pity. I would like to –”

Suddenly Bilbo’s pointed ears twitched. His eyes widened with fear, and he ducked down. The water swallowed him within seconds, and he was gone. Thorin supported himself on his knees and peeked into the sea, but he found no trace of him.

When he looked up again, he could see a rowboat slowly making its way towards the open sea. It was far away from the spot where he sat – he couldn’t tell how many people were on board –, but the faint murmur of their voices carried all the way to him. He watched the boat’s progress, but even when it was little more than a spot against the horizon, Bilbo didn’t return.

Thorin looked at the calm surface of the water, and slowly he began to wonder if maybe he had been dreaming after all. One of the merfolk, listening to his song as if _he_ was a siren …

He shook his head about himself, but he still bore a smile on his face when he returned into his house.

 

***

 

Thorin rose late the next morning. The sun had already found its way through the curtains of his bedroom to tickle his skin, but slumber was still reluctant to release its soft grasp. Lazily he blinked his eyes open. He had been dreaming of his mountain home, of its clear lakes and cool rivulets.

Their sound still echoed through his mind as he brewed himself a mug of tea and settled down on the veranda. Despite the sunshine, the air was chill, and he warmed his fingers on the mug. He sighed with content as he looked out onto the water. It would only take him a few steps across sandy beach to reach it. The rocky spits to the right and to the left formed a sheltered bay, thus protecting him from curious onlookers. On mornings like this, it was easy to imagine that there was nobody in this world but him.

Thus he was quite startled as he heard someone calling his name. Thorin’s first reflex was to stand up and look for a visitor coming from town, but he dismissed it. Nobody from there called him “Thorin”, and he couldn’t be seen from the road that led towards the village as well.

Then he noticed a head with copper curls peeking out of the water in front of him. “So I wasn’t dreaming after all”, he said to himself as he got up. Bilbo waved at him, and Thorin returned the gesture. He pointed towards the rocks where they had talked the day before – he doubted that the merman would be able to approach his seat on the veranda since the water would soon get too shallow for him to swim properly. Bilbo understood and swam to the rocky spit to meet him there.

“Good morning, Bilbo”, he greeted as he sat down.

“Hello, Thorin.” The merman sounded somewhat bashful, and he twisted a pebble between his fingers before eventually saying: “I’m sorry for disappearing so suddenly yesterday. I didn’t mean to be rude, but …” He shrugged. “The fishermen made me nervous. I think it’s better if they don’t see me.”

The dwarf nodded in understanding. Most of the people in town, especially those that were connected to the sea in some way, were rather superstitious. They would probably try to scare Bilbo off, believing that he would take all storms he could otherwise call upon them with him. They would probably be too frightened to use violence – after all, they wouldn’t want to call any other mercreature’s wrath upon them –, but still …

“But you let me see you”, Thorin remarked. Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, but the dwarf interrupted him with a chuckle: “I know – I’m the singer.”

“Well, you are!” The merman pouted at first, but eventually joined in his laughter. “Besides, I don’t think you would try to sell me … or eat me as if I was some ordinary fish.”

Thorin felt a sudden pang of guilt as he thought of the fishing rod in his shed. “But you, ahem … Do you mind that I eat fish? At least from time to time?”

Bilbo tilted his head and eyed him, his expression unreadable. Then he grinned broadly. “So do I. One can’t just live from kelp alone.”

“You … cannot?” Thorin scratched his cheek, not knowing if the merman was jesting or not. “I’m sorry, but the little I know about your folk I’ve heard in fairy tales.”

“Oh, there are stories about us? What do they tell about us?”

“Not much actually. Most stories only say that you live in the sea, and that you sometimes come to the surface to … interact with the land-dwellers.” Thorin coughed. “And not always in a good way.”

To his relief, Bilbo wasn’t offended. Instead he laughed heartily. “I hope the interaction with me doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable!”

Thorin shook his head. “But what about you?” He pointed to the rocks Bilbo was holding on to. “You have to look up at me the whole time. Would it be better if I climbed down to sit on some rocks further down?” He half got up to change his position, but Bilbo raised his hands to stop him.

“Don’t worry, I got this.” With a smooth movement, he raised himself out of the water and settled down on the rocks. Thorin tried his best not to stare at him, but it was futile. It would have been tempting enough to stare at one of the legendary merpeople, and Bilbo was a marvellous sight at that.

As long as the water had covered his lower body, Bilbo had born a strong resemblance to the hobbits of the Shire. He had the same pointed ears as well as the curly hair, and it was only his gills that had given away his true nature. But now Thorin looked at a long, curved fin covered with the dark green scales he had already admired the day before. They began just where other beings would have their navel, and at the end they split in two. Two additional fins, fragile as silk, emerged from Bilbo’s hips and surrounded him like a veil in a light green hue. Water drops glistened on the scales like tiny diamonds.

“Oh, I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” Thorin tore his eyes off Bilbo and looked at the horizon instead, his cheeks burning.

“It’s okay”, the merman appeased him. “By now I know that you don’t mean anything by it.” He chuckled. “To be honest, I could stare at your strange feet all the time! I think they’re quite funny.”

Thorin laughed. “So your people don’t tell each other stories about land-dwellers, and how strange they look?”

“We don’t know much about them. You’re the first land-dweller I’ve ever spoken to.”

“I hope you aren’t disappointed.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I think you’re quite fascinating.”

“Am I now?” Thorin showed him a crooked smile. “Not many people are fascinated by dwarves, you see. Your world sounds far more interesting – I mean, you live in the endless ocean! That’s difficult to imagine.”

“There are no majestic castles on the seafloor, I’m afraid.” Bilbo suddenly seemed very interested in some invisible speck of dust on his scales. “My kin and I, we live in rather simple grottos. They offer us shelter – that is, for the warm months of the year. When the water in this region gets colder, we travel to another part of the ocean to spend the winter there. But here is our true home, and we always return here. There are safe grottos, enough kelp for all of us, and plenty of fish.”

“Are there many of you?”

The merman shrugged. “Several dozen, I think.”

“So many of you.” Thorin bent down and stretched until his fingers were in the water. “And yet there isn’t a single singer amongst you?”

Bilbo laughed, the sound of it bright and clear. “It’s a rare talent amongst my people – and I don’t know anybody who sings so wonderful like you! Besides, nobody else knows any songs about mountains.” His tail fin wiggled with excitement, and he nodded eagerly as Thorin asked if he would like to hear more stories. “You spoke of something yesterday – about your song. The fall of … Khazad-dûm, did I say that right? Was … was this your home?”

“No, it wasn’t”, Thorin replied. He noticed how Bilbo eased a little. “Khazad-dûm was the ancient home of my people, but we lost it to darkness and flame long, long ago. I was born and raised in Erebor.”

“Erebor”, Bilbo repeated in a whisper. “What a wonderful name.”

“And it was a wonderful home.”

He looked up from the water as Bilbo placed a hand on his arm. It was the same cautious movement like the day before, offered in comfort, and Thorin wondered if touches had a similar importance to Bilbo’s folk as they had to dwarves.

“I’m sorry”, the merman said. “I didn’t mean to … to bring up memories.”

“I’m alright”, the dwarf assured him. “I don’t mind talking about Erebor. Really.” He began to tell the merman of his lost home. He didn’t speak of dragon-fire, though, but of vast halls hewn from green marble, of the morning sun slowly filling the chambers with its golden light, of the exotic goods that were offered at the markets. Bilbo smiled as he mentioned that there had been plenty of water in Erebor as well, fountains and artificial rivulets, and the Long Lake at the mountain’s foot. The images of the snow-covered peak, of trees whispering in the wind, and of halls beneath halls in the depth of the earth fascinated the merman more, however. He listened attentively, and his blue eyes were wide with wonder.

“Erebor is far, far away from here, isn’t it?”

Thorin nodded. “It lies far to the East. It would be a journey of several months to get there.”

“And you came all the way here by yourself?”

“No, I didn’t. Most people of Erebor wandered into the Iron Hills, but some came with me into the West. There’s a small dwelling of our folk in the Blue Mountains. My sister lives there, together with her sons. I travelled further to look for work, and I’ve found a home here. It’s not easy to be separated from them, but the people in town are in need of a blacksmith, and I can make a living here.” Thorin coughed slightly, afraid that he sounded moody again. He quickly changed the subject: “What about you? Do you have a big family?”

Bilbo snorted. “I don’t have any siblings, but there are way too many cousins and aunts and uncles, I tell you.”

Thorin laughed at the way the merman rolled his eyes. “How does it feel to live amongst so many relatives?”

“It’s nice, at least most of the time. It can be quite exhausting, too. There’s always somebody who has some good advice for me, you see.” He wrinkled his nose. “You can’t imagine how often I’ve been told not to come to the surface.”

“Obviously not often enough.” Thorin smiled. “I’m glad for it, though. It’s been a while since I talked with somebody about my home. It’s nice to share some memories.”

“Would you share some more with me? The forges you mentioned … It’s difficult for me to imagine something like that. Oh, but I forgot …” Bilbo’s ears twitched, and he curled his tail around himself. “You spoke of your work, and I’m afraid I’ve distracted you from it for far too long already.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve only got some easy chores today – actually I could finish them while we sit here. That is, if you’re interested.”

Of course Bilbo was interested, and Thorin got up to walk into his forge. He returned with some blunt knives the baker had brought him to have them sharpened and a looking-glass with a scratched surface that had to be polished. Although they were only ordinary things, they excited Bilbo, and he carefully listened to Thorin’s explanations what they were and how he intended to repair them.

During the course of the next days and weeks, this became a habit for them: Thorin would often settle down on the rocks with his tools, and Bilbo would peek out of the water sooner or later and watch him working. They never agreed to meet at a certain hour, but somehow they ended up sitting there and talking almost daily; the only exceptions were the days when the dwarf had to go into town.

Soon Thorin was looking forward to their meetings. Bilbo was an utter joy: He was curious like a child, and he was delighted whenever he knew one of the things Thorin repaired.

“I’ve seen this one”, he explained and gestured towards the pot Thorin was mending, “it was hidden in a ship wreck.” He shook his head in disbelief as the dwarf told him that people used it to boil water in it and cook food, and he laughed merrily at the idea of throwing kelp into such a thing to make some soup of it. His doubts of the whole concept didn’t stop him from peeking curiously into Thorin’s tea mug, and after trying a sip he was clearly convinced of the advantages.

After seeing that Bilbo was so delighted with a simple thing like tea, Thorin began to bring him little gifts from the market whenever he went into town. The merman had never tasted apples or berries before, and he received every treat like a treasure. It turned out he had quite a sweet tooth: The first time he tried a sugar bun his eyes were shining with delight, and Thorin shared the one he had bought for himself with him as well.

“Does your family know where you go?”, Thorin asked him one day. They spent so much time together now, and he wondered what Bilbo’s kin would have to say about his growing friendship with a land-dweller.

“Not all of them”, Bilbo admitted. “Some of them would be so shocked they would lose all their scales at once – my people aren’t very adventurous, or even curious, you know. But my parents know about you.”

“I hope they still got all their scales?”, Thorin asked, causing Bilbo to laugh.

“They do, don’t worry! Father was wary at first, but you saved Frodo, so he can hardly claim that I will find an untimely end in your cooking pot. Mother worries too, of course, but she’s more adventurous. She understands why I want to come to the surface.” He blushed a little at that. “Anyway … will we see each other tomorrow again?”

It was the first time he asked this question, and it hurt Thorin that he had to shake his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” He saw Bilbo’s smile fading, and he hurried to explain: “I have to go into town tomorrow. There’s work to do, and I need to get some supplies.”

“Oh.” The merman showed him a smile again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Moreover, his ears were still drooping. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you from your work. We spent so much time together lately, and I really enjoy it. I … I hope you haven’t lost orders because of me?”

“Don’t worry, Bilbo. Everything’s perfectly fine. I’m happy to spend time with you. So … Will we see each other the day after tomorrow?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Bilbo was beaming at him now, and as they parted he waved merrily at Thorin before the water swallowed him.

 

***

 

Spring had eventually given way to summer, and as the days grew warmer the work in his forge proved strenuous even for Thorin.

With a sigh, he put his tools aside and wiped the sweat from his brow. The embers were slowly dying down, but their heat hadn’t decreased yet, and no breeze was coming in through the open door either. He reached for the jug of water on the table, but there was only a small sip left in it, and that was tepid at that. He drank it nonetheless and cast a glance outside. The sea glistened temptingly in the bright sunshine, and Thorin decided to let his work be – at least for the moment – and to go for a swim instead.

He didn’t bother to get into the cottage again, but simply dropped his pants and smallclothes on the veranda – he had cast away his shirt before he had gone into the forge. It only took a few steps, and he was in the water. He sighed, its coolness was a true blessing after the heat of the forge. He waded further until the water reached all the way up to his chest, and another blissful sigh passed the dwarf’s lips.

“Thorin?”

Startled, he staggered back. By now he had become rather used to the heap of Bilbo’s auburn hair appearing seemingly out of nowhere, but so far the merman had never shown up mere inches away from him when he was bathing in the sea.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Bilbo blushed; he obviously hadn’t expected to meet him in such a very naked state as well. “I didn’t mean to come amiss.”

“It’s, ahem, it’s alright.” Thorin coughed. He noticed how carefully the merman eyed their surroundings – there was more purpose behind it than simply trying not to stare at the dwarf. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, it is, it is. I’m sorry for worrying you. But, you see, I brought someone with me today, and I promised to make sure that we’re really alone.”

Thorin took a look around. His little bay was rather remote to begin with, and this part of the beach couldn’t be seen from the path that led to town. “I don’t think that someone will see us here. But if you’ve brought a friend with you, then I … ahem, I think I should put my underclothes on again. That would be … appropriate, I guess.”

The merman seemed quite curious – he probably had no idea what underclothes were –, but he nodded politely. “We’ll be back in a few moments, okay?” He dove into the water, and Thorin waded to the shore, put on his smallclothes and went into the water again. It felt a bit awkward to go swimming like this, but less awkward than being completely naked when the merman was around.

It didn’t take long for Bilbo to reappear – he had probably been waiting for Thorin to be in the water again. But this time, another familiar face broke through the surface right next to him.

“Hello, Frodo”, Thorin greeted him friendly. The boy showed him a shy smile, but stayed half-hidden behind his uncle. His arms were wrapped around Bilbo’s waist, and Thorin noticed with relief that the wounds the net had left on his skin were gone. “I’m glad to see that you’re alright.”

Frodo nodded without leaving his place of safety, causing Bilbo to chuckle.

“We owe you a lot, Thorin. That’s why Frodo wanted to see you again. Isn’t there something you wanted to give to Thorin, Frodo?”

It took some more patient words and a little nudge from Bilbo, but eventually Frodo dared to approach the dwarf. His uncle stayed right behind him, one hand on his small shoulder, and bent down to whisper something into his ear.

Then Frodo stretched his arms out. “Thankyouforsavingme”, he said in a rush, “thisisforyou.”

On his palms rested a bracelet. It was made of a dark-green silken material, and tiny shells in white and soft pink and blue were threaded on it.

“That’s beautiful”, Thorin said in awe. “Is this really for me?”

Frodo nodded. “Uncle Bilbo helped me to make it.”

“A bit”, Bilbo corrected fondly.

“You’re very talented, Frodo. It’s some fine work.” Thorin smiled as the boy beamed. It was indeed: It took patience and skilful fingers to work with such fragile shells. He offered Frodo his right hand. “Will you help me to put it on?”

With some assistance from his uncle, Frodo managed this task. He grinned as Thorin twisted his wrist to and fro to admire the bracelet.

“Thank you very much, Frodo. I will treasure your gift.”

The child seemed to have forgotten his timidity at once, and he reached for Thorin’s hand. “Can we swim together? Please?”

“Of course. But don’t be too hard on a land-dweller like me, okay? I can’t swim half as fast as you, you know.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “After all, I’ve only got _feet_.”

Frodo nodded earnestly and promised to take good care of him. Then he pointed to a great rock not far away. “Can you swim there?”, he asked.

Instead of answering, Thorin plunged into the water. Frodo giggled as the splashing water hit him, and he quickly followed the dwarf. He had obviously fun to overtake Thorin just to fall back at his side again. He made sure to be the first to touch the rock, though, and loudly proclaimed his victory.

“You didn’t say that this was a race”, Thorin teased as he supported himself on the rock.

Frodo grinned at him and dove into the water. He reappeared just behind the dwarf and wrapped his short arms around Thorin’s neck as best as he could. “I’ve won”, he repeated merrily.

Thorin in turn took a deep breath, pushed himself away from the rock and submerged together with the boy. Frodo didn’t let go of him, and moments later they broke through the surface again.

“Did I surprise you with that, little starfish?”, Thorin asked with a laugh.

“I’m not a starfish!”, Frodo replied.

“But I did surprise you, didn’t I?”

Frodo tried to stifle his giggles. “Maybe.” He let go of Thorin and disappeared in the water. It splashed slightly when he dove up on the other side of the rock, trying to hide behind it. The dwarf pretended not to see him and began to swim around the rock in a wide circle, causing Frodo to submerge several times.

Eventually Frodo dove into the water and reappeared a few metres away. A gull that had been floating on the waves fled with a screech. Thorin laughed as he watched Frodo chasing after the bird, but he looked to his right side as a hand was placed on his arm.

“I’d like to thank you, too.” Bilbo’s voice was soft as he spoke. “If something had happened to Frodo … It would have broken his parents’ hearts, and mine as well.” Bilbo’s eyes were clouded, and Thorin gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

The merman looked up again. He watched him wordlessly for some moments, and Thorin got the feeling that he could drown in those blue eyes. Eventually Bilbo asked: “May I?” He raised his hands to cup Thorin’s face. They were pleasantly cool, and the fine webs between his fingers were soft as silk on the dwarf’s skin. Bilbo leaned closer until their noses touched, and with the utmost care he rubbed it against Thorin’s. “This is how we express gratitude amongst my people”, he explained, his breath brushing over Thorin’s lips.

“My folk knows a similar gesture”, the dwarf answered quietly. He tilted his head slightly until their foreheads touched as well. Bilbo kept them close together, and the world around them seemed to disappear. There were only gentle hands cupping his face, the soft tickle of a nose and damp curls, and, if he listened closely enough, a heart beating in the same rhythm as his.

Not far away from them, Frodo watched them with wide eyes and an open mouth. But he knew better than to disturb grown-ups when they were sharing a special moment, and so he went in search for another gull he could play with.

 

***

 

A few days after their swimming trip, Thorin sat on his usual spot on the rocks. He was carving a piece of wood again – this time, a toy for Kíli in form of a raven. But, he realized sourly as he examined his work, he would probably have to throw it away. Somehow he couldn’t concentrate, and his craft suffered from this distraction. It looked horrible.

Nonetheless he set the carving knife to the wood again when he heard a sound he had grown accustomed to: the soft splashing of waves as someone broke through the sea’s surface.

Delighted that Bilbo was there, he looked up from the piece of wood. They had not seen each other the day before as Thorin had been in town, and he was already curious if Bilbo would like the blackberries he had purchased at the market.

His smile vanished quickly, however. The merman tried to hide it, but something was worrying him; Thorin could tell from the look in his eyes.

“Bilbo, is something wrong?”, he asked cautiously while putting away the carving knife. “Has something happened?”

“Everything is alright.” He hesitated. “It’s just that … I … I got something for you.” Bilbo swam forward until he almost touched Thorin’s knees. Then he raised his hands and presented his palms to the dwarf. Several coins rested on them, all of them covered with a patina. Judging from the colour, however, Thorin could tell that the coins beneath the thick layer were made of gold. They were of considerable size at that – a small fortune. The dwarf blinked at Bilbo, not sure how to react to such a gift.

“For you”, Bilbo repeated. “There are more of them on the seafloor, hidden away in shipwrecks. They just rot down there, but … but I thought you could need them. They’re valuable, right? If … if you had some of them, you wouldn’t have to work in town any longer.” He nudged his hands forward, almost pushing the coins into Thorin’s hands. In a rush, he explained: “The days when you’re in town are dreadful. I miss our talks, and I … I miss you. But with those coins, you don’t have to work there anymore, and instead we can spend more time together …”

He flinched as Thorin gently wrapped his fingers around his hands. He turned Bilbo’s left hand so he could clearly see his forearm – and the fresh scar on it. There was another one just above the elbow, and from the way Bilbo’s face flushed Thorin was sure the merman hid more scars.

“Did this happen while you were gathering the coins?”, he asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle across Bilbo’s wrist.

The merman shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention for a moment”, he muttered without meeting the dwarf’s gaze. “There were some nails sticking out of the planks, and I overlooked them. Nothing to worry about.”

“Bilbo”, Thorin said, “I appreciate your gift. I really do. But I don’t want you to get hurt.” He leaned closer to examine the scars. “Do they still hurt? I’m afraid I don’t know anything about your people’s medicine.”

“They sting a little”, the merman admitted. He didn’t withdraw his hands, though. “But I don’t need any medicine. The sea water will heal it.”

“Are you sure? I’ve got some ointment an old friend made. My sister swears by it. You would have to be a bit patient, though.” Thorin showed him a smile. “Once the ointment is on your skin, it has to dry for a bit, and it shouldn’t be washed off at once. But if you would stay with me for some while …”

“Hm.” Bilbo worried his lower lip. “Well”, he said at last, “if your sister is convinced of it …”

Thorin’s smile deepened. “I’ll just fetch the ointment. I’ll be back at once.”

He got up and went towards his cottage. He fought the urge to take a look back – his heart was pounding frantically in his chest anyway. The image of Bilbo looking at him across his outstretched hands still stood vividly in front of him. It wasn’t the small fortune they had offered him that had him stumble up his veranda, but the sincere blue eyes that had held his gaze captive. For a moment he simply stood in his home, the ointment forgotten as he tried to calm his breathing.

By saving a merchild from a fisher’s net, he had gotten enmeshed in a different kind of net himself, and he was slowly beginning to understand that he didn’t want to be freed of it.

Thorin smiled softly and shook his head about himself as he went in search of the ointment. He was a fool – falling in love with a merman! –, but he couldn’t care less. The light feeling in his chest was stronger than the spark of doubt that told him _it’s impossible, forget about it_. That little voice was completely drowned out when he had fetched the earthenware pot with ointment as well as the blackberries and stepped outside again.

Bilbo hat gotten out of the water and sat on the rocks. He had curled his tail around himself, and the emerald scales glistened in the sunshine. A soft breeze moved through his auburn curls as he gazed to the horizon, and the small heap of coins rested next to him, forgotten.

He turned to look at Thorin as the dwarf settled down next to him. He seemed a little anxious, and he stayed silent as Thorin reached for his arm to tend his wounds. The refreshing scent of various herbs spread as the dwarf gently applied the ointment to Bilbo’s scars. The freckled skin was soft beneath his fingers, and he was tempted to let them linger.

“Does this hurt?”, he asked. The merman only shook his head, and Thorin continued his work. None of them spoke for a long while, and the only sounds between them were the surge and the occasional croaks of the sea birds.

Eventually, however, Bilbo asked quietly: “I guess you will keep going into town to work?”

The dwarf didn’t answer at once, but finished tending Bilbo’s scars as he thought about his reply. Without letting go of the merman’s hands, he looked up and said: “I will.” His answer caused Bilbo’s pointed ears to droop, and he explained: “I can’t let you go into danger for my sake. I couldn’t just sit here and wait for you to show up with a hand full of coins from some sunken ship, knowing that you could get hurt. It would be worse than being in the forge and hoping I can return to you soon.” He gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “I really enjoy being with you, Bilbo.”

The merman’s tail fin twitched. “And I like being with you.” His smile didn’t reappear, though. “I wish we could spend more time together – you know, not just sitting here and talking. Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful, but … but I … I would like to see more of you and your world.” He sighed as he stared into the water, and his hands slipped out of Thorin’s grip. “I wish I could join you.”

Thorin looked away, and his gaze fell upon the forgotten coins and the blackberries. He would love nothing more than fulfil Bilbo’s wish. But which way was there to let a merman know the world beyond the sea? His means were very restricted.

“I got some blackberries yesterday”, he began and reached for the small basket. “My nephews love them, but they only grow for a few weeks in the woods of the Ered Luin. In the woods here, in turn, you can find them for a longer period of time.” Bilbo’s spirits seemed to brighten a little; his shoulders weren’t sloping anymore as his curiosity was woken. “The travelling merchants that come to the Ered Luin sometimes sell them, but they ask a high price. I … I think I will give your coins to my family. It’s more than enough to help them through the next winter, and there will be plenty left for my sister to buy Fíli and Kíli as many blackberries as they want. Your gift will make them very happy, Bilbo.”

“Will it indeed?” Now it was finally there again, the soft smile that sent Thorin’s heart racing. It made Bilbo’s blue eyes shine brightly as well, and not even his first sight of the sea had been more beautiful.

“You don’t believe me that blackberries are that good, do you?” He handed Bilbo the little basket, watching fondly how the merman reached out to pick a few of them.

His means might be restricted, but he would do whatever he could to show Bilbo his world.

 

***

It had been a long, tiring day, and Thorin barely found the strength to cast off his boots and clothes before he fell into bed.

The day had actually started perfectly normal. He had risen early and had gone into town, directly into the forge. There he had lit the embers, and from that point on things had started to go wrong.

He had been startled by a cloud clash that was followed by cries and swears. Outside of the forge he had been met with chaos: The cart of a merchant had broken down at the central crossroad, thus blocking the whole traffic. The nervous horses had to be led away, and then the cart had to be unloaded – even for Thorin who was stronger than the men in town it had proved impossible to move it by strength alone. Eventually the cart had been hauled to his forge for repair, but the embers had died down in his absence. It had been past noon when he had finally started to repair the broken axle, and he hadn’t been able to finish until late afternoon. The payment he had received for all his work, however, had been infuriating little. But instead of being able to call it a day, other customers had been waiting for him, impatient because of the delay the broken axle had caused.

It had been a sweaty, exhausted and moody Thorin who had finally gone to the market at sundown, and he had only received meagre leftovers; he hadn’t been able to get a little gift for Bilbo. And the worst thing about the whole day was that Thorin had managed so little of his regular work that he would have to go into town the next day again to catch up, and he wouldn’t be able to meet his merman for another day.

With a groan, he rolled onto his back and took a deep breath. The window was open, and the sound of the waves as well as the scent of seawater eased him. He had missed all of this during the day. And he had missed Bilbo’s company, his witty remarks and delight in every new thing he learned about the land-dwellers.

 _Maybe_ , he thought drowsily, _I can leave tomorrow at about noon. Then there’ll be enough time for a proper stop at the market, and I can still see Bilbo._

Suddenly a melody reached Thorin’s ears, quiet, but clear and sweet amidst the sound of the waves. He sat up in his bed, surprised that he recognized the music. He didn’t know any of the words, but this was definitely the melody of the song about Khazad-dûm, and the singer …

Thorin quickly got up. He picked his trousers and shirt up from the floor and dressed hastily. He didn’t care about his boots, but left the house with bare feet. Guided by the music, he walked across the sand until the cool water reached his toes.

It deemed him that he had entered another world. The moon stood full and bright in the sky, and countless stars sparkled like diamonds. They were reflected on the dark, calm surface of the sea, and it seemed as if a whole world of stars was spread out in front of him.

Thorin took a shuddering breath. He had never seen anything like that, and the sight was of a beauty that made his heart ache. He knew that there was a scientific explanation for it, but a part of him hoped that it was the spell of the merman that sat on the single rock not far from the shore.

Thorin listened as if enchanted. He had never heard this song performed like that. Dwarves tended to have deep voices – the females just as the males, and his mother had been no exception. He didn’t know the meaning of the words Bilbo used – if there was a meaning to them at all –, but his bright voice gave the song a serenity Thorin had never heard before. It touched his heart.

Then the song stopped, and it felt like a loss.

Thorin didn’t dare to breathe for a moment, afraid that the song might continue the next moment and he would miss the first sound of it. But the silence lengthened, and eventually he whispered: “Bilbo?”

There was a splash as the merman slipped from the rock, and a few moments later Bilbo appeared in the water before the dwarf. His eyes were dark as the night sky, and the moonlight cast a silver shine on him.

“Thorin? I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I wasn’t asleep yet. I heard your song.” Thorin smiled softly. “You haven’t told me what a wonderful singer you are.”

“Oh, I … It’s nothing special.” Bilbo wriggled a little, obviously embarrassed. “But I thought that you must be tired, and that you might enjoy a … a lullaby.” His nose twitched. “I don’t want to stop you from getting your sleep, though. So … goodnight?” He sounded tentative, as if he hoped that Thorin didn’t want to leave already.

In fact, leaving was the last thing Thorin wanted to do. Since hearing the first note of Bilbo’s song, fatigue had fallen off his shoulders. He felt at ease now, even light-hearted. He sat down right where he was, felt the sand beneath his body and let the water soak his clothes.

“I’d like to stay”, he said, and his heart beat faster as he noticed the happy twinkle in the merman’s eyes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Bilbo used his hands to move his body through the shallow water. He did so with quick, practiced movements, and he sighed as he settled down next to Thorin.

“Your song was beautiful”, the dwarf said after a while.

He could see that the merman was blushing. “Thank you”, he said. “I … You see, it’s a rare talent amongst my people. We don’t sing when we are in the water, and not many want to come to the surface just to sing. It’s …” He gestured vaguely. “The others consider me odd.”

“I’d rather say that you are special”, Thorin said fondly.

Bilbo mumbled another bashful thank-you, and his tail fin grazed the dwarf’s bare feet. They feel silent again and looked up at the stars, lost in their own thoughts.

“I was also looking at the stars”, Bilbo began quietly, “when I heard you singing for the first time.” Thorin turned to look at the merman, but he was still gazing up at the sky. “I came to the surface after sunset.” He smiled vaguely, and his tail fin brushed Thorin’s feet again. “I didn’t listen to all warnings of my kin, but to some of them. I wanted to avoid being seen. I just wanted to catch a glimpse of this world … But when I heard your song, I couldn’t resist. Your song pulled at my heart strings, and … I had to look for the singer, and I dared to swim closer to the shore until I found you. You were … are … captivating.”

With every soft word Bilbo had spoken, Thorin’s heartbeat had quickened, and now it was pounding as if trying to escape his chest. “Bilbo …”, he began.

The merman, however, made intentions to get into the deeper water again. “It’s late, and you must be tired”, he muttered. “I should leave.”

He stopped as Thorin gently wrapped his fingers around his wrist.

“Won’t you stay a bit longer?”

Bilbo looked at him, his dark eyes wide with surprise. But then his gaze softened, and he sank back again. “I’d like that very much”, he said, and his fingers stayed intertwined with Thorin’s.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo had always been considered foolish for his interest in the surface world. He had dreamed of exploring it as long as he could think back. Now he had the chance ... and then there was Thorin.  
> He knew that it would be worth the sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally managed to finish the next chapter :)
> 
> Please also note the latest tags - there's a bit angst in here ... sorry about that ( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)

Bilbo broke through the water’s surface and felt like laughing at once. The fresh air caressed his face, and he savoured the sunlight on his skin. He wanted to shoot out of the water as if he was some exuberant dolphin, but he held himself back. All his life, he had been careful when entering this strange and exciting world, and the old habit still stuck with him.

Nowadays it would deem him easy, however, to forget all precaution. There was never a need to glance over his shoulder in alert; he always felt safe when he was with Thorin. His tail fin twitched as he thought of the dwarf – _his_ dwarf, how the few people who knew about Thorin had started to call him.

Bilbo had often sneaked away to catch a glance of the surface world in the past, but now that he met the dwarf almost daily he wouldn’t have been able to explain his long absences, and he had told a few people where he went, his parents amongst them. He had half expected shocked reactions, but it had turned out that nobody was actually surprised that he had befriended a land-dweller. This, however, didn’t mean they would stop to give him good advice; he could never leave without hearing some warning to be careful.

Bilbo swam a little faster as Thorin’s cottage came in sight. The forge was empty, but the merman saw two figures standing on the veranda. He couldn’t help feeling a shiver, and he stopped at once and sank into the water until it reached up to his chin. His fear only lasted for a moment, though, and was quickly replaced by annoyance. Was that one of the people from town Thorin had spoken of, and who sometimes came to him with work? He pouted. Why did a customer have to come here just _now_ , when he wanted to visit his dwarf?

He stayed where he was, unsure what to do next. He didn’t want to return home, not without having spoken to Thorin. But a customer might take some time, and if Thorin had to go into his forge to work immediately …

Suddenly Thorin turned on the veranda. His eyes scanned the ocean, and as they set on Bilbo he began to wave. His visitor was still next to him, and Bilbo froze. But then again … His dwarf wouldn’t let any stranger know of his existence, and he would never put Bilbo into danger. Therefore the merman braced himself and approached the shore – he couldn’t help having a lump in his throat, though.

“Bilbo!” Thorin greeted him with a smile that eased him at once. “I’m sorry to have startled you, but I had a chance meeting this morning. May I introduce you to Gandalf the Grey?”

Bilbo eyed the stranger curiously. He was tall, much taller than Thorin although he seemed bent with age. He was leaning on a gnarly staff, and a part of his wrinkled face was shadowed by the brim of his pointed hat. But then he smiled, and Bilbo was met with warm, friendly eyes.

“It’s a delight to meet you, Master Bilbo”, he said solemnly. The merman wished him a good day, but wasn’t able to hide his confusion completely.

“Gandalf is a wizard, Bilbo”, Thorin explained. “He has travelled all of Middle-Earth and is very knowledgeable. I … I met him in town, and I asked him if he … if he knew a way for you to spend some time on land.”

Gandalf raised an eyebrow at that. “He asked me”, he corrected, “if I knew a spell to _grow_ _limbs_. I half expected that the sparring with one of his cousins had gone terribly out of hand. But then he told me about you, and how much you would love to explore the world of the land-dwellers.”

Bilbo stared at Thorin. “You did that?”, he asked. “You searched for a way for me to walk on land?”

The dwarf didn’t meet his gaze, but looked at his own feet. His face had turned red. “If you would like that …”, he mumbled.

“Of course I would!” He stretched his arms out, and Thorin understood; he knelt down and let Bilbo take his hands. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you, Thorin”, he whispered across their intertwined fingers. “I’ve always dreamed of this, but I’ve been told that it was impossible. But you …”

He got interrupted as Gandalf coughed, and they drew apart and turned to the wizard.

“Don’t get carried away yet”, the wizard chided them, but his voice was gentle. “The transformation won’t be easy, and we’re only at the beginning. At first I need to weave the spell. It has to be connected to you, Bilbo. I think one of your scales will do fine for that.”

“You need a scale of me?” He hesitated. It would hurt to remove one of them, but there was more to it. If he gave away one of his scales, he would forever be marked amongst his people. Nobody he knew lacked a scale – and if someone had such a scar, then everybody would know, but nobody would ever talk about it. It wasn’t appropriate. Their scales were rather resilient, and bruises and scratches healed quickly. But Bilbo’s people also took care of themselves, they didn’t get involved in any affairs that could leave them scarred. Such a thing would be odd, foolish. It would leave him branded.

Then again … He had always been considered foolish for his interest in the surface world. He had dreamed of exploring it as long as he could think back. And now he had the chance. One scale was a small sacrifice for the fulfilment of his dream.

And then there was Thorin.

Bilbo looked up and met the dwarf’s blue gaze. Thorin was concerned, but showed him an encouraging smile. It was easy to return it.

“Alright”, he said, “just give me a moment.”

With a nod to Thorin and the wizard, he submerged and quickly swam away from the rocky spits into deeper water. There were some close-by rocks on the seafloor, and he hid amongst them – nobody of his folk ever moved that far away from their grottos, but he didn’t want to be surprised by anyone. He squeezed himself between two rocks for better support and reached for his tail fin.

Suddenly nervous, he stopped before he touched one of his scales. Which one should he take? A small one might not be sufficient for Gandalf’s spell, but maybe he would be able to hide the scar. He dismissed the last thought quickly – a missing scale would be noticed at once, no matter how small it was.

Finally he squeezed his eyes shut and blindly reached for a scale. He already flinched as he slid his fingers beneath it, and he quickly put his other hand over his mouth. His heart was thumping like mad, and he hesitated as fear threatened to overpower him once more. But then he thought of the world above the water, of walking on land, of walking next to Thorin, and pulled.

Searing pain shot through his side. His whole body arched in protest against such cruel treatment, and Bilbo had to muster all his strength to keep going. His tail fin twitched beyond his control and scraped against the rocks. He cried into his palm as the pain nearly overwhelmed him, but then the scale was finally off.

Trembling, Bilbo slumped back against the rocks. For long moments he just sat there, his eyes still closed, and tried to calm down. When he finally opened them, his gaze fell on his side at once, on the gaping hole there. The sight had him swallow, and it got even worse when he looked at the single scale on his palm. It was nauseating, and it took him some moments of just sitting where he was until his heartbeat had finally calmed down.

He had really done it, and he knew that it would be worth it.

That thought helped a little, and eventually Bilbo freed himself from his spot between the rocks. After making sure there wasn’t any blood left on the scale, he swam back to the surface. He was slower than usual – the hollow spot on his side felt strange whenever he moved his tail, and he took care not to overstrain himself.

Thorin and Gandalf had been absorbed in conversation, but both of them looked up as Bilbo reappeared. The dwarf immediately came closer.

“Bilbo?” he asked. “Bilbo, are you alright?”

“I am”, he replied, hoping not to sound too casual. “Here.” He stretched his arms out, presenting his scale. Thorin hesitated to take it until Bilbo showed him a smile. “I’m okay”, he repeated. “Really.”

Gandalf had waited a few polite steps behind Thorin, but now he moved forward to eye the scale. “This one looks very fine”, he observed. “You’ve chosen very well, it will work excellently with the spell.”

“Speaking of the spell”, the dwarf said, “Gandalf needs my assistance, and crafting it ...”

“Weaving it”, the wizard corrected friendly.

“… _weaving_ it will take us some time. We could start right now – that is, if it’s okay for you.”

“I guess I shouldn’t prevent you from working, then. So we will see each other … soon?”

“Three days”, Gandalf replied after a pause. “I think this should be enough time for us to prepare everything.”

“Three days”, Bilbo confirmed, but his eyes rested on Thorin as he spoke. He felt a strange reluctance to leave, but at the same time he couldn’t wait to be back in three days. With a little bow of his head towards Thorin and Gandalf, he let the waves swallow him.

For a while he let the current carry him; his head was too full to think about such a thing as where to go now. _Wizards and spells and the land, and …_ Bilbo looked at his tail fin. _And feet. I will soon have feet to walk on._

A laugh, half of merriment, half of disbelief, came across his lips, and he swam a loop as he began to realize that his dream would come true. He shot through the water like an excited child, twisting around himself and chasing after some fish. He felt as if he could burst with joy any moment, and he was still humming to himself as he approached his family’s grotto.

The tune died on his lips, however, as soon as his mother set her eyes upon him.

“Bilbo! What has happened?” Belladonna had been collecting kelp in front of their grotto, but she let go of the bundle as she saw him, and Bilbo was painfully reminded of the missing scale on his side.

“Have you been hurt, darling?” She hurried to him, her tail fin twitching nervously, but didn’t dare to touch the scar.

“I’m alright, mother”, he tried to appease her, but Bungo chose exactly that moment to leave the grotto and join them. His face turned into a mask of shock – he had noticed his son’s missing scale at once, too.

“Bilbo!” he gasped and rushed to them. “Are you in pain? Who has done this to you?”

“We have to tend it”, Belladonna mumbled; she still hadn’t touched the scar. “I’ve got some of your aunt’s red kelp left, it will ease the pain in no time. My poor darling!”

“Come inside, Bilbo”, Bungo said gently, “and take some rest.”

“But I’m alright!” he shouted as both of them tried to nudge him into their grotto. His parents blinked at him in confusion, and Bilbo took the chance to quickly add: “I … I’m going on an adventure.”

Bungo stared with an open mouth at him, but he thought to see a sudden understanding in his mother’s eyes. Softly he asked: “Can we talk about it?”

A short while later they were gathered in the greatest cave of their home. Belladonna had insisted on applying some red kelp to his wound although she had hardly dared to touch it, and now his parents were patiently waiting for his explanations.

They already knew of Thorin – although Bilbo hadn’t told them everything, like how much he admired his singing –, and he started right away with Gandalf’s spell that would allow him to walk on land. Both Belladonna and Bungo seemed sceptical at first, but they nodded earnestly when Bilbo admitted that one of his scales had been the price for the spell.

“It makes sense”, Bungo said although he didn’t seem too pleased with the whole idea yet. “It’s like in the stories, Bilbo: You need something important to weave true magic. This wizard is no dabbler.”

Bilbo’s mood brightened. He had expected his parents to voice more concerns. “You’re allowing it?”

Belladonna and Bungo shared a glance before bursting into laughter. “Would you really have asked us to allow it?” his father chuckled. “Don’t try denying it, my dear. We know that you’ve dreamed of this ever since you could tell where ‘up’ was. Tell me, have you already made plans for your adventure on land?”

He nodded, but shook his head only moments later. Of course he had thought about what he would do on land, but those had been day-dreams. This, however, was real! A grin spread on his face, broad enough to make his cheeks hurt. “There’s so much I want to see, I don’t even know where to start!” Despite his excitement, he took a moment to think about what he knew of the surface world. “Thorin has told me of a town nearby, but also of mountains to the east, and of forests full of blackberries … Oh, I think I’d like to see some forests for a start – there will be _so many trees_!”

With wide gestures, he began to tell his parents everything Thorin had told him about the surface world. He had an interested audience, and they listened to him until the sea darkened, and the shells in the walls of their grotto began to spread their gentle white glow.

“I wonder if I’ll see fireflies”, Bilbo mused at the sight. “If they’re very different from our shells?”

“I think you’ll discover a whole new world”, Bungo said fondly, and Bilbo grinned at him. In his excitement he didn’t notice that it was his father who asked all the questions and encouraged him to speak whereas his mother stayed silent.

It was only when they had retired and Bilbo had made himself comfortable in his sleeping nook that his mother approached him. She swam to his side and brushed her nose against his forehead.

“Tell me, darling”, she asked in a soft voice, “your Thorin – will he take good care of you?”

Bilbo felt a sudden tingle in his belly as he thought of warm calloused fingers that were intertwined with his. “He will”, he whispered.

Belladonna smiled at him and lowered her head to brush her nose against his. “Sleep well, my dear Bilbo”, she said and left her son to his dreams of green woods, grey mountains, and sky-blue eyes.

 

***

 

The next days just wouldn’t go by.

With the first rush of excitement gone, Bilbo found countless questions crushing in on him: How would Gandalf’s spell change him? Would the transformation be painful? And just how was he supposed to learn to walk on _feet_?

His parents sensed that he got nervous, and they treated him even more lovingly than usual. As wonderful as that was, it also increased Bilbo’s feeling that he would go on an adventure soon, and that he would probably be away for a long while.

Most of the time, however, he could barely await the appointed day, and more than once he was tempted to swim to the surface and find out if Thorin and Gandalf were making progress. His nephew Frodo would have loved to join him on such a little adventure to see the dwarf again; he had often asked Bilbo if Thorin was still wearing the bracelet he had made for him, and he always beamed when Bilbo nodded.

“Thorin is very nice”, the boy declared in an earnest voice, “and you don’t have to worry when you’re going on an adventure with him!”

Such words eased Bilbo’s nerves, and he gently bumped their noses together before playing another round of hide-and-seek amidst the coral reef with Frodo.

But finally, finally the third day had come. After waking up in his nook, Bilbo had felt strangely calm, but his composure threatened to crumble as his parents accompanied him out of their grotto.

“Good luck, Bilbo”, Bungo told him as he pulled him into a hug. “Enjoy your time on land – but be careful as well, alright? At least a little.”

Before he could answer, his mother wrapped her arms around him; her hug was surprisingly tight. “Just promise me one thing, my boy”, she whispered into his ear, and Bilbo felt a lump in his throat at the sound of her shaking voice. “Promise me that you will return to us before fall, my dear Bilbo.”

“Don’t worry, mother”, he appeased her, “you won’t lose me to the land.”

It was only after his waving parents had turned into tiny figures and were about to disappear behind him that Bilbo realized he hadn’t promised his mother to return to them before fall. A shudder ran through his body, and he swam quicker as if he could leave it behind him.

Soon he reached the distinct seafloor close to Thorin’s home. He shot up along the rocks and broke through the surface. His eyes immediately scanned his surroundings, and he was disappointed that Thorin wasn’t waiting for him already, but that only the wizard was there. Bilbo scolded himself for being so rude and approached him.

“Good day, Mr Gandalf”, he greeted politely.

The wizard gave him a friendly look. “A good day to you as well, Bilbo. How are you?”

“A bit nervous, to be honest.”

“Understandable.” Gandalf nodded gravely. “But I think that the spell will work perfectly. Thorin and I worked very well together, you’ll see. The spell is a rather tricky one, but …”

A door was being opened and closed again not far away, and Bilbo got distracted as Thorin approached them. The dwarf looked rather thoughtful, but as soon as he noticed Bilbo his eyes lit up.

“Hello, Bilbo”, he said softly, and his smile made Bilbo’s heart beat faster.

The merman smiled back at him, but Gandalf chose that moment to cough slightly. “I think”, he said, “there’s little use in postponing what we came for. We’d better start at once – if that’s okay for you, Bilbo …?”

He nodded, ignoring the flutter of both excitement and fear in his belly.

“This way, Bilbo.” Thorin walked along the rocky shore, and Bilbo swam after him until they reached a spot in the shadow of the forge. Thorin came here to get water for his work; a beaten path led from the door to a hand-built pump. But for today, he and Gandalf had prepared something else: Rocks had been piled up in the water to form some kind of sheltered pool. The water in this area was shallow; it only reached up to Bilbo’s hips after he had climbed into the pool and sat down. He dug his tail fin deep into the sand to steady himself.

Gandalf stayed on the dry ground whereas Thorin stepped to Bilbo into the water. The merman’s eyes widened as they fell on the artefact Thorin was holding. It was a necklace made of bright silver, and Bilbo’s very own scale was attached to it. It was caught in a delicate net of fragile silver wires, its dark green shining like an emerald against them.

“This will hold back your true nature”, Gandalf explained, “but you have to wear it on your skin the whole time. Remember that, Bilbo – once the necklace is removed, the spell will not work any longer, and you’ll be transformed back.”

Thorin held the piece of jewellery out to him. “May I?”

Bilbo was fascinated by the beautifully crafted necklace, but he swallowed nonetheless. “Will … will it hurt?”

The dwarf’s brows furrowed in concern, but Gandalf smiled in understanding. “It won’t, but it won’t be very comfortable either. I’ve got a potion that will make you dose off, it will ease the transformation.”

Bilbo’s gaze searched for Thorin’s. “Will you take care of me?” he asked in a whisper.

“Of course”, Thorin replied, and there was such an honesty in his voice that Bilbo had the courage to nod. “I’m ready.”

Thorin bent down, and his arms surrounded Bilbo as he put the talisman around his neck. Suddenly frightened, Bilbo reached out and put a hand on the dwarf’s arm for support and comfort. Muscles flexed beneath his palm, and he held his breath as calloused fingers grazed his neck. The next moment, the pendant came to rest on his collarbone. Its weight felt comforting and warm on his skin.

“Here.” Gandalf handed him a little flask, and Bilbo swallowed its content in one draught. At once a pleasant warmth spread in his belly, and his eyelids became heavy. His head dropped to his chest, but he didn’t let go of Thorin’s arm. Drowsily his hand moved on, and his fingers rubbed over the tiny shells of the dwarf’s bracelet.

Then everything turned black, and the last things he knew were the sound of the waves and Thorin’s voice softly singing a lullaby to him.

 

***

 

His sleep was deep and dreamless, and Bilbo felt perfectly normal when his eyelids began to flutter open. With a little sigh he stretched himself, and that was the moment he realized that nothing was perfectly normal.

His lower body felt different. Moving his tail fin shouldn’t feel like … like this. His eyes snapped open and immediately searched for his tail fin. Instead of dark green scales, however, he found two pale limbs. He was still sitting in the shallow water of the pool, and the current gently dragged at _his feet._

Panic rose in him. He wanted to get out of the water, but he didn’t know how to move with those _things_. He felt horribly helpless.

“Bilbo!” A familiar hand fell on his shoulder, and as he turned his head – at least this part of his body still obeyed him – he noticed that Thorin knelt on the rocks just behind him, and Gandalf was there as well.

“How do you feel?” the wizard asked.

Bilbo’s nose twitched. “Strange”, he confessed and pointed to _his feet_. “I want to get out of the water, but I don’t even know what to do with them.”

Thorin’s face was still stern, but Gandalf chuckled, much to his relief. “That’s understandable”, he explained before his voice got serious again. “But do you feel any pain?”

Bilbo shook his head, and Thorin climbed down to stand next to him in the water.

“Let’s get you on land. I’ll carry you, okay?”

The merman wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck, and the dwarf hooked one arm under his legs and one around his waist. His muscles tensed, and in the next moment he lifted Bilbo out of the water.

He couldn’t suppress a squeak as he saw his limbs, the sight no longer obscured by the water. He wanted to reach out and touch them, but as this movement almost had Thorin stumble, he had to exercise himself in patience.

“Just look at them!” he exclaimed nonetheless. “How big they are!” They were indeed bigger than Thorin’s, and covered with curly hair at that.

“Of course they are”, Gandalf said while the dwarf cautiously set him down on a rock. “You already bore a strong resemblance to a hobbit, so I thought it best to turn you into one. They’ve got big feet – just like you have now – and don’t wear any boots … what you’ll probably find comfortable.”

Instead of letting go of Thorin, Bilbo clung to him and – with the dwarf’s support – managed to stand up.

“Look, Thorin!” he beamed. “I’m standing on my own feet!”

They were rather wobbly, but Bilbo felt sand and stone beneath them, and he laughed merrily. When he looked up again he noticed that the dwarf’s gaze was fixed on his face, and a blush stood on his cheeks. Bilbo tilted his head, puzzled at this expression, but then he looked down on his naked body and understood.

“Oh. Now that I’m a land-dweller I should also wear clothes like one of them, right?”

Thorin only blinked at him, but Gandalf produced a bundle of fabric out of his bag.

“We’ve got some clothes for you – nothing fancy, I’m afraid, but they’ll do. Should I help you?”

Bilbo definitely needed help. He understood quickly how the pale blue linen short worked and how to put it on, but the trousers remained a mystery to him. He was glad for Gandalf’s kindness and patience; the wizard helped him to sit down and told him how to move his legs to dress properly.

When the task was finally achieved, Bilbo frowned at his legs. Somehow he had hoped that he would be able to move them by instinct. But now it seemed he had to actually learn how to walk on them. It would be a straining task, and his courage fell.

As if reading his thoughts, Thorin suggested: “Maybe we should walk a little? It will help you to get accustomed to your legs.” He offered Bilbo his hands to help him up, and the merman gladly accepted them.

With one of Thorin’s hands on his shoulder for support, they made their way back to the dwarf’s cottage. The first part was especially tricky since the ground was uneven, but Gandalf was always a step ahead and held out a hand in case Bilbo should need it. From time to time Bilbo had to stop and wait until his cramped legs relaxed a little, but eventually he stood on the beach right in front of the veranda. His toes were splayed in the wet sand, and he took a deep breath to inhale the breeze.

The sea lay right before him, but he slowly turned away from it. Now he saw the cottage and some trees, and behind them … there was a whole world to be discovered.

Bilbo’s eyes fell on Thorin. The dwarf stood right next to him, an arm half outstretched in case the merman needed his support, and answered his gaze with an uncertain smile. Something about his sight pulled at Bilbo’s heartstrings, and he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around the dwarf’s broad frame as best as he could. Strong arms enclosed him, and he nestled up to him.

“Thank you, Thorin”, he whispered into the crook of his neck, “thank you so much.”

Thorin’s chest rumbled as he chuckled. “You know, Gandalf helped as well.”

“Oh, how impolite of me.” Reluctantly, Bilbo withdrew himself from Thorin’s embrace and turned to the wizard. Gandalf’s eyes twinkled good-humouredly as he placed his hands on the merman’s shoulders.

“My dear Bilbo, I think my work here is done.” Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, but Gandalf continued: “Now that the spell has worked and you are fine, I can leave you to Thorin’s care. I know that he will keep you safe.”

Bilbo showed him a smile. “Thank you, Gandalf.”

The wizard winked at him. “I’ll stay for some more days in town, so don’t hesitate to call for me. And, Bilbo: Be careful not to take the pendant off!”

He nodded gravely, and his hand moved to the pendant that lay on his chest; the delicate net of silver wires was pleasantly warm against his skin.

Gandalf turned to Thorin to bid him farewell. They exchanged some words – Bilbo couldn’t understand them, but they brought a deep flush to Thorin’s face and caused the wizard to chuckle. Gandalf turned around and waved at him once more before he turned towards town, and after a while even the tip of his grey hat was gone.

“So …”, Thorin began after some moments of silence. “I thought that it would be best for you to get used to your legs before we go exploring. I hope you’re okay with that?”

Still amazed, Bilbo looked down at his feet. “Sounds like a good idea.” With a weak laugh he added: “It might take me some while, though.”

The dwarf smiled at him. “I prepared something that will help you. Come, I’ll show you.”

He offered Bilbo his hand for support, and together they went to the backside of the cottage. The merman walked slowly and kept looking at his feet – the few times he had curiously looked up he had stumbled immediately. He only raised his head to look when Thorin told him so.

“A tree”, he breathed and did some more staggering steps forward, this time without the dwarf’s help. With trembling fingers – it was weird to see that the webs between them were gone – he reached out to touch it. The bark was rough beneath his palms, and he pressed his head against it to savour the feeling. He drank in the scent; he wasn’t able to compare it with anything he had ever smelled so far.

After some while Bilbo put his head into the neck and stared up at the green leaves. How he longed to feel them as well! But they were high above his head, and …

He blinked as he noticed the two ropes that were slung around a strong branch. His eyes followed them towards the ground to a plank.

“It’s called a swing”, Thorin explained. “It’s actually a toy, but one where you have to move your feet … I thought it might help you.”

Bilbo eyed the plank curiously. “How is it used?”

“You sit down here …” Bilbo squeaked as he did so and the plank immediately swung beneath him. He was glad for Thorin’s hand on his back, steadying him. “Then you try to move the whole swing with your body. It will react to your movements. Lean your upper body back while stretching your legs out at the same time … like this, yes. And now move your upper body forward and bend your legs … That’s good, but try to bend forward a little further. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

Bilbo didn’t think that he made a very splendid figure on the strange plank, but Thorin was endlessly patient and showed him the correct movements. Eventually Bilbo understood how they were supposed to work, and he managed to set the swing in motion. The way he moved his legs became more controlled, and faster than he realized the swing was positively lifting him up into the sky.

He gasped as he reached the highest point just to fall back, and he ceased his movements. His heart thumped in his chest, and it took him some moments to process what he had just felt.

He had felt free.

A smile spread on his face, and he tilted his head back. Thorin had stepped right behind him, and the crown of his head almost touched him. “Can I try again? To get even higher up?”

“As often as you want.” The dwarf grinned. “Need help?” He placed his hands on Bilbo’s back and gave him a push that sent the swing forward.

Bilbo let out a cry of joy. The sea glistened in front of him, and at the highest point he could believe that there was nothing but the sky. The feeling of having the world laid out in front of him had him laughing with all his heart.

He sat on the swing until he was out of breath and his sides hurt from laughing. Slowly the movements of the swing ebbed away, and he let his feet dangle in the air. The sky had turned from pink to orange while he had sat on the swing, and now it slowly turned red.

“Goodness”, the merman mumbled. “It looks as if I spent the whole afternoon on the swing.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo nodded sheepishly. “Very much.” It must be obvious – he was still grinning so broadly that his cheeks hurt.

“That’s what matters. But maybe we should go into the cottage now? I could cook dinner for us.”

The prospect of finally getting to know how Thorin lived was exciting, and Bilbo got up from the swing so quickly that he stumbled. He bumped against Thorin, and the dwarf’s arms closed around him to prevent him from falling. His grip was firm yet gentle, and its warmth left Bilbo reluctant to draw back. Instead he closed his eyes and listened to Thorin’s heartbeat. It was a tad slower than his own, somewhat strange but calming.

Then Bilbo realized that he was actually leaning into the touch – and for way too long at that – and stepped back with a nervous laugh.

“I guess it will take some time for me to get used to all of that”, he explained with a vague gesture towards his feet.

“Take all the time you need.” Thorin showed him an encouraging smile. “We’ll walk to the cottage slowly, okay?”

It was only a short distance, and although Bilbo knew better how to move his feet now – at least a bit – he was glad for it. But he was curious to learn how Thorin lived, and he managed the way without having to stop.

When he finally stood inside the cottage he turned around himself to take in the sight, completely forgetting how rude it was to stare like that. He couldn’t help it, though – he was fascinated.

They had stepped from the veranda right into the living room. It wasn’t crammed, but there were dozens of things Bilbo couldn’t name. With Thorin’s help, however, he was soon able to describe the furniture, from the bed in a nook beneath the window to the dining table and the drawers. Everything had been crafted by Thorin himself, and Bilbo admired the intricate carvings. Thorin’s home radiated warmth and made him feel welcome. It was easy to believe that the dwarf belonged here.

Then, however, Bilbo’s gaze fell on two frames on top of a drawer. One showed a woman – a dwarf, he guessed from the neatly braided facial hair – with two small children, Thorin’s sister and his nephews. The dwarf had said that they lived a march of several days away, but it was only now that Bilbo had walked himself that he could guess what a strenuous journey that must be.

Thorin had found a home at the seaside, but suddenly Bilbo didn’t know if he should be happy for him or not since it also meant that he had left another home – one that was still dear to him.

He felt even worse when Thorin stepped at his side and explained: “That’s Dís, and the boy next to her is Fíli, and she’s holding Kíli. He’s still a baby in this portrait. It was made a long time ago.” His voice didn’t bear any sorrow, and he pointed at the other portrait and said: “And here, this one shows my mother.”

“She looks beautiful. But what is that on her head? A wreath?”

“A crown. She didn’t like it very much, but she had to wear it for official occasions.” Thorin chuckled softly, but Bilbo stared at him. A crown? He had heard of such a thing, but in ancient stories about kings and princes and …

“A prince?” he asked. “You’re a prince, Thorin?”

The dwarf met Bilbo’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “That has been a long time ago”, he said, not unkindly. Then he smiled again. “What would you like for dinner? I got some sweet potatoes at the market …”

Bilbo accompanied Thorin into the kitchen, a little separate room, and insisted on helping him. He wasn’t sure if he was really of any help – he bumped into the dwarf more than once, and handling a knife without the familiar webs between his fingers wasn’t easy either. He was too restless, though, to just sit in the living room and wait. He wanted to help, wanted to do something.

Despite dropped knives and irregular cut sweet potatoes they eventually sat on the veranda with crossed legs and a bowl of deliciously smelling stew and watched the sun disappearing behind the horizon.

They still sat out there when the first stars stood in the sky. Bilbo couldn’t get enough of staring up at them. He even got up and walked a few steps away from the cottage to have an unobscured look at the stars. He had never seen them like this. Somehow it felt as if he had swam through the whole ocean and come up in a different part of the world, one where the sky was adorned with different stars. He shivered at the thought.

“It’s getting chill”, Thorin said quietly behind him, misinterpreting the gesture. “We can still stay here, if you like – I could get you a coat and a mug of tea.”

Bilbo shook his head. “We can also go inside. I don’t know why, but suddenly I feel very tired.”

A smile flickered across Thorin’s face. “Oh, I can think of a reason or two. One doesn’t grow legs every day, after all.”

“One doesn’t grow accustomed to them in one day for sure”, he mumbled as he took the hand Thorin offered him to help him up the stairs. This time he avoided bumping into the dwarf.

Back inside, the dwarf picked up a lantern and lightened it whereas Bilbo stopped in the middle of the room and looked around clueless.

“So, ahem …. You land-dwellers sleep in … beds?”

“We do”, Thorin confirmed friendly. “But since I only got one bed, I’ll leave it to you.”

“But Thorin!” Bilbo protested. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take my sleeping mat and lie on the floor. I always do so when I’m travelling. I’m used to it.”

“But – ”

“Let’s make a deal.” Thorin shoved a bundle of clothes into Bilbo’s arms. “If you manage to get into these sleeping clothes without my help, I’ll take the bed. Alright?” He grinned.

“Unfair”, Bilbo pouted and glared at the laces and buttons. Several minutes later – and some of them had been quite awkward – he lay in bed while Thorin had settled down on the floor. The lantern had been blown out, and silver moonlight coated the room.

“Goodnight, Bilbo.”

“Goodnight, Thorin. And … thank you. For this wonderful day and … and for …” He broke off, not knowing how to finish the sentence; his heart was too full.

Thorin smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow”, he said gently.

Bilbo stared at the ceiling and listened to the dwarf’s breathing, heard how it grew even in sleep. Despite having felt so tired earlier, he was wide awake now: He lay in bed with open eyes, his legs a strange weight beneath the blanket. He moved them from time to time and wriggled his toes to make sure they were real, no matter how incredible that was.

He had become a land-dweller.

Suddenly he felt a lump in his throat, and he bit his lips to prevent himself from sobbing. Here he was, on land, and could barely take care of himself – he couldn’t even walk properly! He felt so tiny, helpless. The world was so wide, and he knew nothing of it.

He sat up in bed and looked out of the window. He could hear the sound of the rolling waves and knew that the sea wasn’t far away. It was only a few steps.

Only a few steps.

It could have been miles, it wouldn’t matter. The sea – his home – was worlds away.

“Bilbo?”

Thorin’s voice was soft, but it was the nudge he needed to gather himself with a deep breath. It still took him some moments, though, to answer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His words were followed by silence. Bilbo stared at the blanket. His fingers were fidgeting, and he dug them into the fabric. He felt silly now for his sudden anxiety. He was on land, and he had always wished to be here, hadn’t he? He tried to pull his knees to his chest to wrap his arms around them. It should have been a movement he was accustomed to – he often did this to comfort himself –, but his right leg didn’t do the same thing his left leg did, and frustration threatened to overcome him once more.

Eventually Thorin spoke, still in this soft voice of his: “It has been a long day, hasn’t it? A lot of excitement …”

A chuckle welled up in Bilbo’s throat. “You can say that aloud.” The laughter died on his lips, and he sighed heavily. “Maybe there was too much of it.”

Blankets rustled as Thorin sat up. His skin shone like silver in the pale moonlight, and his eyes had turned into deep pools. “Should we sleep outside?” he suggested. “It’s not too cold, and we could hear the waves and smell the sea breeze.”

His words hung in the air like a promise of comfort, and Bilbo could have jumped out of bed to hug him. Not only did he know how to ease him, he was also kind enough to pretend there was nothing extraordinary about it.

“That sounds lovely”, he replied gratefully. “But, ahem …” He blushed as he gestured towards his feet; they had become entangled in the sheets. “Could you …?”

“Of course.” The dwarf got up to free him from the blanket. He leant closer, and the moonlight drew specks of light on his skin. Bilbo flinched as Thorin’s fingers brushed against his knuckles while helping him – it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but intense enough to rush through his whole body. He hoped that his shiver had gone unnoticed, but of course it had not.

“I’m sorry”, Thorin hurried to say. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. I’m just … a bit, ahem, sensitive.” He coughed. “Could you also help me to get out of bed? I’d like to try going outside by myself, though.”

He managed his way through the living room without troubles, and he even went down the stairs of the veranda by himself. Then he stopped, waiting for Thorin to lead the way. The dwarf easily balanced the sleeping mats and blankets. He didn’t seem to be affected by the weight at all; he even had a hand free to help Bilbo whenever the ground became uneven. He remembered how effortlessly Thorin had lifted him out of the water right after the transformation, and he was glad for the soft breeze on his reddened cheeks.

Soon they reached a level spot that was both close to the sea and sheltered by some rocks, and Thorin spread the sleeping mats there. He offered the mat next to the water to Bilbo, but despite his longing to be close to the sea he lay down with his back to it and faced Thorin instead. Already feeling better, he snuggled into the blanket. The dwarf did the same, and he lay on his side to face Bilbo as well.

“You said you’re used to sleeping outside when you’re travelling”, Bilbo whispered. “Tell me more … please?”

“I travel to visit my family twice of thrice a year, and there aren’t many inns along this road.” Thorin’s voice was quiet yet deep, comforting. “It’s not always the most comfortable way to travel, especially when it pours. Once I got even caught in the snow! But by now I know some places where I can rest during the night. Speaking of which: Are you comfortable?”

“I am”, Bilbo assured. “Does it often snow here?”

“Not on the coast, but there’s always snow in the mountains. Winter often lasts long there, and the children love it …”

Thorin kept telling him stories about the life in the Blue Mountains in a low, almost hushed voice as if he was sharing secrets with Bilbo – secrets he had never told anyone else before. Although he listened with rapture, the events of the day finally took their toll, and Bilbo’s eyelids fell shut.

 

***

 

The next morning, Bilbo woke to several lovely impressions.

There was the gentle movement of the waves washing against the shore, a sound he had never been able to perceive like this before. A smile spread on Bilbo’s face. He was on land, and the first beams of the morning sun caressed his face. He got legs, and somehow they had become entangled with Thorin’s beneath their blankets. The dwarf’s skin was warm against his, and this sensation alone was worth the sacrifice of a scale.

Bilbo slowly opened his eyes. The world around them was barely awake yet, but clad in pastel shades and quiet. Even the seabirds seemed to be still asleep, adding to the feeling that there was nobody but Thorin and him right now.

Thorin was slumbering as well. His hair was a tangled mess; long strands fell across his face. Bilbo reached out to cautiously brush one of them behind Thorin’s ear. The dwarf looked somewhat younger in his sleep, more carefree.

Thorin would never cease to amaze him. He had been enchanted by him the very moment he had heard him sing, but he had been afraid that his fascination might ebb away once he saw the dwarf regularly as it often happened when something or someone became familiar.

Growing familiar with Thorin, however, was as wonderful as meeting him for the first time. Bilbo’s heart still beat faster in anticipation when he was about to meet his dwarf, and he always felt safe when he was with Thorin … and happy.

Bilbo knew very well what that meant.

Thoughtfully he slid his leg against Thorin’s, savouring the feeling of skin against skin. The dwarf sighed in his sleep, but didn’t stir. Bilbo watched him fondly and huddled closer until he almost touched him. Bilbo hesitated for a moment before closing the last gap between them. With a happy sigh he rested his head against Thorin’s chest, basking in the dwarf’s warmth. He felt a pang of guilt at making use of the situation like this, but the constant beat of Thorin’s heart chased it away, and lulled him into sleep again at that.

He still noticed how a warm arm curled around his waist, though.

 

***

 

“Just look what I found, Thorin!”

Bilbo scrambled up the soft slope to present his find to the dwarf. The basket was filled to the brim with mushrooms.

“You’re very gifted when it comes to mushrooms”, Thorin observed with a smile. “Would you like mushroom pie for dinner today?”

“Definitely yes!” Bilbo laughed. He was covered with dirt from crawling around on the forest floor, his bare feet dug into the soil, and he felt happier than ever before.

The last days had been a dream come true. Thorin had shown him the region around his cottage, and by now Bilbo had gotten used to his new limbs. He climbed over the rocks to reach hidden little bays; he knelt down to gaze into the water and watch the fish; he moved his legs to fly into the sky on the swing. He had even gone swimming like the land-dwellers did!

Today they had gone to explore a little forest about two hour’s walk away from the cottage. It was the furthest distance Bilbo had ever walked, but he had managed it very well; his legs barely ached. At first he had been nervous; the further they had gone away from the sea, the more anxious he had become, and when the sound of the waves had faded behind them he had felt the urge to turn back. Thorin, however, had been a true sweetheart and had distracted him by telling him of his adventures with his nephews.

He always was a true sweetheart.

With a smile, Bilbo took Thorin’s hand as the dwarf offered his help, and he held on to it for longer than necessary. He liked the feeling of his hand being wrapped up in Thorin’s bigger one, just as he liked the feeling of their entangled feet. The nights continued to be pleasantly warm, so they spent them outside, and somehow their feet always got intertwined.

They walked home on a different path than before, and when they crossed a field of flowers Bilbo knelt down amidst them to admire them. Thorin was clearly embarrassed that he knew only little about flowers and could just name two or three for Bilbo, but the merman was more than content to simply take in their scent. He brought his face close to the flowers while feeling their soft petals between thumb and finger. Nothing he had ever experienced down in the water could compare to this, and his heart swelled with joy.

When he looked up, he noticed Thorin standing there, watching him with a fond smile. The dwarf blushed when he was caught staring, but Bilbo answered his smile. He picked a blue flower, approached Thorin and gently tucked it behind his ear.

His smile broadened as the dwarf’s blush deepened; Thorin even lowered his eyes.

“It suits you”, Bilbo said softly.

The dwarf muttered something inaudible. Bilbo tilted his head, puzzled, and Thorin gathered himself enough to explain: “It’s called forget-me-not.”

A pleasant tingle spread in the merman’s chest. “What a lovely name”, he commented and kept looking at Thorin with a smile until the dwarf averted his gaze again and mumbled something about how late it was getting and that they should return home.

They continued their way back to the cottage in silence. The sun was almost touching the horizon when they arrived there, and Bilbo’s stomach grumbled audibly. That was another thing he enjoyed about the surface world: The food was absolutely delicious. Thorin claimed that he wasn’t a very skilled cook, but the smells always had Bilbo’s mouth water. Today was no exception, and he stared longingly at the pie as Thorin put it into the oven.

His gaze, of course, didn’t go unnoticed. “We could read something until dinner’s ready”, the dwarf suggested.

Bilbo beamed at him. He was fascinated by the fragile-looking sheets of paper, the scent of the leather-bound covers and the strange letters that carried whole worlds within them. He peeked curiously at the volume Thorin picked from the shelf.

“On the veranda?” the dwarf asked, but Bilbo was already on his way there. He sat down on the steps and dug his toes into the sand. When Thorin began to read, he closed his eyes, losing himself to the pictures his imagination wove. Thorin’s voice was smooth, the sand between his toes was still warm, and the summer air was interwoven with the scent of their dinner.

 _I could spend the rest of my life like this_ , Bilbo thought like enchanted.

_Promise me that you will return to us before fall, my dear Bilbo._

His eyes snapped open as guilt shot through him like a lightning bolt.

Thorin immediately lowered his book. “Bilbo?” he asked in alarm. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I …” His shoulders sagged. “I just thought of my family.”

“I … I see.” The dwarf stared at the book in his lap. He didn’t continue reading, but he also didn’t ask any questions.

“I just realized that I didn’t think of them at all”, Bilbo explained hesitantly. “I feel so guilty.”

“I don’t think there’s any reason for that. I mean, they’ll hardly be angry because you’re having a good time and enjoying yourself.” Still focusing on the book, Thorin asked: “You do enjoy your time here, do you?”

Bilbo smiled warmly at him. “Very much.” He shifted on the wooden planks, and his little finger brushed against Thorin’s. Finally the dwarf looked up from the book. His gaze was soft, and Bilbo found himself holding his breath as those blue eyes watched him. Thorin leaned closer to him until his nose brushed against Bilbo’s in the gesture of affection the merman had taught him. His touch was gentle, almost tentative.

“Is this alright?” he asked, and Bilbo shuddered as his breath grazed his skin.

“Y-yes”, Bilbo whispered. Then, remembering what Thorin had told him about the customs of his people, he tilted his head slightly until their foreheads touched as well.

“And this?” he asked breathlessly.

“Perfect”, Thorin replied.

The forget-me-not was still tucked behind his ear.

 

***

 

When the first houses came in sight, Bilbo swallowed nervously and reached for Thorin’s arm.

“Do you really think I’m ready?”

The dwarf patted his arm. “I’m sure of it”, he appeased him. “Nobody would ever guess that you’re one of the merfolk.”

“Hush”, Bilbo made, eyeing their surroundings suspiciously to make sure nobody was listening. They were alone on the road that led towards town, but he reached for the amulet on his chest nonetheless. “I’m a hobbit now.”

“With that big feet? Without doubt”, Thorin teased. When he noticed that Bilbo scrunched his nose, he added in a soft voice: “You’re a fine hobbit, believe me. You’re doing great.”

Bilbo gave the dwarf’s arm a gentle squeeze. He felt a little better, but his heart hammered in his chest nonetheless. They were almost at the town gate now, and he slid closer to Thorin as soon as he noticed two young men that were approaching them.

 _Not us_ , he told himself, _they’re probably on their way to the coast._

The men carried buckets, and Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat as he saw their fishing rods. For a moment he had the dreadful feeling that his tail fin twitched nervously, and that the men could see what he really was. Thorin only nodded at them in greeting, and they continued their way after having returned the gesture.

Bilbo inhaled deeply. They had not recognized what he really was. His heart thumped in his chest. They had thought that he was a hobbit. It worked. It worked! A wild joy began to roar within him, and excitement made him grin broadly. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to be amongst people, to be one of the land-dwellers, and he urged Thorin to go faster.

He drank in the sight of the little houses made of stone and wood that awaited them after passing through the gate. There were so many colours: flower pots and clotheslines and people. He would have loved to stop and just look around to take everything in, but as soon as he turned his head something else caught his eye, and he had to dash there. He almost bumped into some people as he ran towards a market stall, and Thorin took his arm to prevent him from falling.

 “Careful”, he said, but there was only fondness in his voice. “We can stay as long as you like, Bilbo – and we can return here tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, and after that … as often as you want.”

Bilbo beamed at him. “May I thank you with some blackberries?” He already reached into his pocket for some coins. The dwarf had given them to him that morning. Bilbo had protested at first, but Thorin had pointed out that it wasn’t only reasonable if he had some money, but fair as well – after all, Bilbo had given him a small fortune of gold coins.

With a smile, Thorin bent towards him and whispered: “Patience. There’s another fruit vendor in the market area, and their blackberries are the best.”

They wandered on at a moderate pace now. Thorin told him little stories about the places they saw, and Bilbo listened and stared in wonder. From time to time he noticed that people watched them, but their glances were curious, not suspicious ones; they were probably not used to the sight of a dwarf _and_ a hobbit in their small town. Most of them only looked at them for a moment before continuing with their own business.

Bilbo, however, also met kind people – like the fruit vendor Thorin had mentioned. It was an elderly lady whose face visibly brightened up when the dwarf introduced Bilbo to her and she finally got to know the hobbit who liked her blackberries so much. She apologized countless times for not having any blackberries for sale that day and offered them some strawberries to try instead. She smiled broadly when Bilbo assured her that they were at least as delicious as her blackberries, and when Thorin bought a little basket of strawberries she gave them a handful of cherries for free.

After having eaten their treats, Thorin led Bilbo into a small shop that smelled deliciously of parchment and leather, and the merman was delighted to meet the town’s bookbinder. The man looked much like a dwarf himself, broad-shouldered and with a thick beard, but was gentle and answered all of Bilbo’s questions. He showed him countless of books, and Bilbo eventually purchased one, a slim volume of fairy tales bound in red leather. He hoped that his reading lessons with Thorin would soon pay off and he’d be able to read the book by himself. Until then, he would simply enjoy the beautiful illustrations … and Thorin’s voice reading them to him.

He clutched his purchase to his chest with a happy smile as they continued their stroll through town. Some clouds had appeared in the sky since the morning, but they were thin and fluffy, without any threat of rain.

“Where is your forge?” Bilbo asked suddenly. “Would you show me?”

Thorin nodded and, much to his surprise, soon led him into a narrow alley. Bilbo would have expected a broad street – he remembered that Thorin sometimes fixed broken carts, and they could barely walk next to each other right now.

The dwarf noticed his gaze. “There’s another way to the forge as well, but I prefer this one.” Colour appeared on his cheeks. “It’s more … romantic.”

“It’s lovely indeed”, Bilbo replied cheerily. The houses were built of white stone, deep green vines wound their way up, and the air was rich with the scent of flowers that adorned the window sills. It was quiet here, as if they were in a world of their own.

He was almost disappointed when they left the alley again and entered a square – but it didn’t take long until something new caught his eye. This time it was a fountain the middle of the square, beautifully shaped of white stone. The soft splatter of the water was a familiar, comforting sound, and Bilbo was excited to learn that he could look at the fountain from Thorin’s forge.

“It’s a nice sound to accompany you through the day, I guess”, he remarked as he stood at the entrance to the forge and looked out at the square.

“It is”, Thorin answered, “although I prefer the sound of the waves in my forge at home.”

Bilbo turned around to eye the forge once more. It reminded him of the one Thorin had shown him back in their little bay, but he could tell that the forge at the sea was the one Thorin was at home. There he had noticed little details like current projects he was working on or well-used tools that had been adjusted to the dwarf’s needs. The town forge, however, lacked such warmth. Here he was working, in the forge at the sea he was creating.

“The sea is where you’re at home, right?”

Thorin showed him a woeful smile. “Not quite, I’m afraid.” He stepped to the door and looked out at the fountain. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the mountains.”

Bilbo stepped next to him and gazed at the water as well. He watched the hustle and bustle on the square since he didn’t know how to reply to the dwarf’s comment. People went by their daily business, but there were also more idle passers-by: an old man stepped out of his house and placed a saucer with milk on the ground for a stray cat that had already been waiting for him; children were painting on the cobblestones with chalk; not far from the forge a young man and a woman …

Bilbo tilted his head. “What are they doing?” he asked. Their faces were close together, but they didn’t rub their noses or foreheads against each other. Instead their lips were pressed together.

“They’re kissing.” Thorin’s voice was quiet. “It’s a gesture of affection … of love.”

“Oh.” Bilbo watched how the couple held each other tight. He leaned closer towards Thorin, almost unconsciously, but he didn’t draw back as their shoulders brushed against each other. Slowly he turned his head to meet Thorin’s gaze. “Love, you say?”

There was something in the depths of Thorin’s blue eyes that had him lean even closer. All his life, this colour had surrounded him – the myriad kinds of blue of his home – and yet he had never seen a shade like this. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with their colour, but with the emotions they conveyed … Thorin’s eyes were so soft – they always were when he watched him, Bilbo realized. His heart fluttered in his chest as he was suddenly close enough to feel the warmth of Thorin’s breath on his face – on his lips …

From one moment to the other, something changed in those blue eyes – something wrong.

 _He’s drawing back_ , Bilbo observed as if he wasn’t affected at all. _He has doubts. He doesn’t want … doesn’t want …_ Then the realization hit him like a punch. _He doesn’t want to kiss me._

“Thorin …?” His voice was a mere whisper.

The dwarf didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Bilbo”, he answered in the same hushed voice. “But – ”

“No.” Bilbo shook his head. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I …” His voice broke, and he quickly turned away. He didn’t want to look at Thorin right now, see compassion or pity in his blue eyes. Not heeding the dwarf’s call, he rushed out of the forge. He just wanted to get away.

His feet carried him through town, but he didn’t pay any attention to where he was going. His vision blurred as the tears finally flowed, leaving a taste of salt on his lips. He wiped them away, but it was a futile gesture; they kept flowing.

Eventually he found a lonely bench in a quiet alley and slumped down on it. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but since the shadows were growing longer he guessed that he had been running around aimlessly for at least an hour.

He sniffed – a tiny, helpless sound, unable to express the ache in his heart. Bilbo pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

He had fallen in love with Thorin, but his feelings were not returned. How could it be? Whenever he had looked into Thorin’s eyes, he had been met with nothing but affection and tenderness. Could he have been so wrong? Did he know so little of the land-dwellers – not just anyone, but Thorin of all people, Thorin whom he had grown so close to – that he had mistaken his kindness for something more? He saw the sudden hesitation in Thorin’s eyes again, and Bilbo sobbed. He had wished for this kiss to happen so badly.

He was startled when somebody sat down next to him. In the few seconds it took to turn his head a wild hope flared up within him.

But the person next to him wasn’t Thorin. It was a stranger – a human, tall and broad-shouldered, with a stubbly beard, just like many others Bilbo had seen today.

“Rough day?” the man asked. His voice was deep, but it lacked the warmth of Thorin’s.

Bilbo sniffed, but only nodded curtly. He didn’t want to talk, and the stranger’s presence made him feel uncomfortable. He hugged himself tighter, hoping the man would get up to leave.

He felt relief as he heard the rustling of clothes; the man moved indeed.

Suddenly a rough hand grabbed his neck, and his heart froze as he felt cold steel against his skin. A knife. A hard pull shook him, and the silver pendant with his scale slipped out from underneath his shirt to dangle in the air.

“What a treasure”, the stranger mumbled greedily.

_No._

Bilbo wanted to shout, but only a croak came over his lips. The knife was set to the necklace, biting into his skin. Then he heard a snap, the sound unnaturally loud in his ears. The necklace fell into the stranger’s waiting hand, but Bilbo barely noticed that he caught it. His whole world turned dizzy as the magic that had hidden his true nature was dissolved. With an unexpected boost of strength, born from fear and anger, he struggled free, but he knew that it was too late.

Before the world around him faded to black Bilbo thought to catch a glimpse of his dark green scales.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin waited anxiously. He called for the merman, even tried to sing – his voice was tight, his throat constricted, but he tried nonetheless. His heart clenched painfully, hoping beyond hope, but eventually he realized that he wouldn’t find the merman’s blue eyes, only seafoam.

When Thorin entered his cottage, it didn’t feel like coming home.

The air inside was stagnant and dust was in the corners; it was easy to tell that nobody had been there for a while. The whole place looked empty, and as Thorin took another step inside his gaze drifted inevitably to the sea beyond the window, and his thoughts wandered as inevitably to Bilbo.

He missed the merman more than he could put into words. After their disastrous almost-kiss in the forge he had searched the whole town for him. He had rushed through the streets for hours, but there had been no sign of a hobbit anywhere. Running back home after sunset, Thorin had desperately hoped to find Bilbo in his cottage or at the shore, but those hopes had been shattered. It seemed that Bilbo had vanished into thin air – or back into the sea.

For long, long days Thorin had waited on the rocks, their usual meeting place. Maybe he should have sung to let Bilbo know that he was there, but the lump in his throat had made it impossible. His heart had ached while his hope had sunk with every passing hour, and thousands of times he head repeated to himself what he wanted to tell Bilbo.

_I’ve longed to kiss you so much. I still long to kiss you. But how can I? I cannot ask you to stay with me, to stay here on land._

Thorin swallowed heavily. If he would ask Bilbo to stay with him, the merman would probably say yes. Thorin, however, couldn’t bring himself to ask that question. No matter how great his longing was, he couldn’t be that selfish.

Although Bilbo had dreamed of being a part of the world of land-dwellers, he couldn’t stay. Maybe not in a month, maybe not in a year, but sooner or later he would begin to miss the place of his birth, his childhood and youth, and it would hurt him. Thorin knew this feeling well enough. Although he had found a home at the sea, a part of him always ached for the mountains. Their sight woke a longing within him, the feeling of stone beneath his feet was that of familiar pathways, and their very own scent was connected to happy childhood days. He couldn’t help it – the mountains were a part of him, and this part of him would never disappear.

Just like he was connected to the mountains, Bilbo was connected to the sea. Being separated from it would hurt him, and that was something Thorin never wanted him to experience.

_He looked hurt when I didn’t kiss him._

He shook his head, trying to forget about the look in Bilbo’s blue eyes and telling himself for the hundredth time that it was better that the merman had returned home. Telling himself such things didn’t make it easier for Thorin, though.

It hadn’t worked once.

One morning he had stayed in bed after waking up, and he had stared out of the window, at the sea. Then, in a sudden moment of resolve, he had decided that it couldn’t go on like that. He couldn’t stare at the water all day long, hoping beyond hope that Bilbo would emerge from it and smile at him.

On the same day, he had left the cottage and had started on his way east, towards the Blue Mountains.

If he couldn’t fulfil his heart’s greatest longing, then he could at least soothe another one.

He hadn’t cared that he was running away – oh, if he had only been able run away! But he hadn’t been able to leave his thoughts of Bilbo behind – not on the road he had told the merman so often about, not even when he had finally stood on his sister’s doorstep.

 

***

 

Fíli and Kíli were overjoyed to see him. They clung to him, climbed on his lap and tugged at his braids while asking him more questions than he would ever be able to answer. Why had he not written them a letter, telling them of his visit? Had he brought anything for them from the sea – some of the pretty shells, maybe? And had he already seen the marks on the doorframe, indicating how much they had grown?

His sister – although she was happy to see him as well and lost no time in ushering him into the kitchen to feed him – saw at once that his heart was heavy; he could tell from the slight tilt of her head and the spark of concern in her eyes. She didn’t push him to speak, however, and Thorin, not knowing how to put the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions into words, was glad for it.

The days passed. His nephews dragged him around town as if he had been gone for years, showed him their favourite spots and hiding places. Thorin met many dwarves who shared a few words with him, mere acquaintances as well as close kin. Sometimes he thought that many things had changed since he had left for the sea, but more often he got the impression that nothing had changed at all. He breathed in the clean mountain air and walked beneath sturdy fir and pine trees. In the evenings they sat together in the parlour where he carved wooden toys, much to Fíli’s and Kíli’s delight, or told them stories. But he never sang, and although he found comfort in his family, the nights were long and dark, and he missed the sound of the rolling waves … and the bright voice he had grown so fond of.

His visit had already lasted ten days when Dís decided to confront him. After the boys had fallen asleep – it was already in the middle of the night; Fíli and Kíli were so excited to have their uncle back that they stayed up far longer than usual – his sister approached him with a mug of steaming tea, and they sat down together in the kitchen.

“Tell me, brother”, Dís said gently, “what bothers you?”

He stared into his mug. “My heart.”

“Oh Thorin!” Her laugh was fond, but it carried a touch of annoyance as well. “Always so dramatic. Won’t you tell me what happened?”

She watched him in wonder when he told her, at first hesitatingly, of the merman who had become such an important part of his life. But the more he spoke of Bilbo, the steadier his voice became – and the fonder. To Thorin’s own surprise, his memories of Bilbo didn’t hurt, but made him feel all warm. He smiled as he remembered the moment a head of copper curls had appeared out of the water for the first time, the long hours out on the rocks in which they had shared stories of their homes, or how Bilbo’s face had lit up in delight whenever he had brought him some trinket from town. His voice grew quiet again when he talked about the day in the forge and revealed his worries to his sister.

“Oh Thorin”, Dís eventually repeated, her voice and eyes soft. “Why didn’t you share your concerns with Bilbo?” He didn’t meet her gaze, but stared into his mug. She continued: “From what you tell me, I get the feeling that Bilbo didn’t go on land just because he wanted to explore it. He also wanted to be with you. His longing was strong enough for him to sacrifice a scale and agree to a magical transformation.” Thorin opened his mouth to reply, but she didn’t let herself be interrupted: “If you had asked him to stay … I, too, think that he would have said yes. And after that – who can tell? You don’t know if he would ever have felt homesick. Maybe Bilbo would have wanted to visit his kin from time to time, just like you do. Or maybe you’re right, and he would have wanted to return to them permanently. Maybe in five years, in ten years … or never at all.”

Thorin bit his lower lip. “I don’t think I could bear to lose him.”

“You’re about to lose him now, brother. Is this really better? To give up on him now because you’re afraid of what _might_ happen? Life can’t be predicted, Thorin.”

In that moment he knew that she talked about her own husband. “If you had known what … what would happen to him … would you still have chosen him?”

“I would, and should we have only had a single day together.”

Thorin blinked at her as if he saw her clearly for the first time since his arrival. “Dís …”

She showed him a wry smile. “You’re brooding too much, Thorin. Just return to Bilbo and speak with him.”

Her words sparked the ember of hope in Thorin’s heart, but there still was a lump in his throat. “I … I truly miss him”, he began, causing Dís to raise an eyebrow in mock surprise. She got up and walked to his side, gently bumping their foreheads together.

“Go back to your merman”, she said fondly. “From what you told me, I’m sure that he will be waiting for you. I’ll explain to Fíli and Kíli that their uncle has to return to his cottage at the sea to reunite with his love. They’ll understand.”

The next morning, when his bag was packed and he was ready for the journey, Fíli and Kíli looked a little downcast, but they told Thorin to hurry back to his beloved nonetheless – Dís obviously hadn’t mentioned that Bilbo was one of the legendary merfolk; otherwise they would have needled him with questions and would have insisted on joining him to see Bilbo with their own eyes.

So Thorin returned to the sea, and his feet carried him faster than on the journey away from it.

***

 

Thorin’s heart had begun to race as soon as the unique scent of the sea had reached him, spurring him further. He had almost run as soon as his cottage was in sight, but he had simply dropped his backpack onto the veranda and had run to the rocks, their usual meeting spot.

Bilbo, however, had not appeared.

Thorin had waited anxiously. He had called for the merman, had even tried to sing – his voice had been tight, his throat constricted, but he had tried nonetheless. His heart had clenched painfully, hoping beyond hope, but eventually he had realized that he wouldn’t find the merman’s blue eyes, only seafoam, and he had trotted back to the cottage with his head hung low.

Now he stood in his home, feeling helpless and just as forlorn as the single dried forget-me-not on the side table.

Thorin’s gaze was drawn to the window again, to the sea beyond. Violently he shook his head – he would _not_ look for a head of copper curls amidst the waves all day long! Instead he took a look around the cottage for something to do, for something to distract him. Eventually his gaze fell upon an empty bowl.

Food. He didn’t have any supplies left, so he could go into town. Maybe the trip would ease him a little … Anyway, it was necessary that he bought some food, and it would give him something to do.

With new resolve he left the cottage, forcing himself not to look at the sea. He went briskly despite already having wandered far today, and the familiar sight of the town put his troubled mind at ease.

Nothing had changed. People performed their daily tasks as usual, buying and selling and chatting, and took little notice of Thorin. To them, the dwarf was as good as any customer. They didn’t ask where he had been those last weeks or what had become of the hobbit that had accompanied him the last time. To Thorin, it was a strange kind of comfort that he didn’t have to answer such questions, but that he was only asked if he had enough potatoes.

His purchases were already done, and he had just stored away a loaf of bread into his backpack when the world around him suddenly turned cold.

Right next to him, a young woman had lifted a girl on her arms so that she had a better view of the baker’s display. The child wore a necklace, and Thorin recognized the pendant at once.

He would recognize the colour of Bilbo’s scales anywhere.

Seeing the beautiful green, golden-veined scale strung upon a necklace, however, made him feel sick. He stared at it until the woman noticed his gaze.

“Is something the matter, Master Dwarf?” she asked warily.

“Oh, I … I was just admiring your daughter’s necklace.” The words came slowly across Thorin’s lips; he thought that his voice might crack any moment. “It seems like … a fine piece of craft to me.” The woman looked rather pleased to hear such words from a dwarf. Thorin, noticing the change in her expression, saw his chance and continued: “It doesn’t happen to be dwarf-made, does it?”

“I got it from a travelling merchant, but it might be”, she replied. “After all it was expensive enough, and there’s a protection spell woven into it. I don’t think humans could craft something like that. The pendant protect its wearer from dangers from the sea. The children often play at the beach or go swimming, and I’m always worried that something might happen. The current is unpredictable …”

Thorin’s nails dug into his palms while he forced himself to listen to her, desperate for any piece of information, but his heart grew icier with every passing moment. Images rose in his mind unbidden, flashes of his bright smile, of the hurt in his eyes. He tried to push them away, but other, darker images threatened to overwhelm him instead. The hurt in those blue eyes –

“… wasn’t a dwarf himself, but had dwarven wares on sale. Even some elven pottery, I think …”

“Excuse me”, he mumbled when it became clear that the woman wouldn’t say anything useful and turned around, away from the baker’s stall.

“Master Dwarf! You’re forgetting your backpack!” somebody called after him, but he didn’t heed them. Instead his feet led him through the alleys without his own doing, and eventually he stood in his forge. He closed the door behind him, shutting the world out, and sank back against it.

_Bilbo_.

A sob escaped him, but he pressed his hand against his mouth to choke it back.

_No. It can’t be. Bilbo can’t be –_

One of the dark green scales he admired so much, strung upon a silver chain –

He bit his lips. _Think, Thorin. Stay calm and think._

The woman had bought the necklace two, maybe three weeks ago, but the chain around the girl’s neck had been brand new as well. It could hardly be older; Thorin had been able to tell from its look. Travelling merchants didn’t carry their own forges with them, except for dwarves. They needed most of the space for their wares and preferred to travel with light weight. A merman would be nothing more than a burden as they only took what they needed. Only the scales, nothing else –

Thorin felt blood on his lips, and the metallic taste brought him back to his senses. _Keep focusing_. Therefore travelling merchants would use a forge in the town where they stayed. Nobody had used Thorin’s while he had been away; he would have been able to tell. So the merchant had produced the necklace somewhere else in town. It hadn’t been a public place, somewhere they could be observed; people would have talked otherwise, and the woman would have known that the necklace hadn’t been forged by a dwarf. A secluded place, probably remote, big enough for a forge … That didn’t leave much possibilities.

Thorin had started to pace around the forge, but now he stopped. Just what was he doing? Was he really planning on barging into some building as if it was a thief’s hideout – and he a prince on the rescue? What was he hoping to achieve anyway? The merchant might be long gone already, and Bilbo –

_No_.

He wouldn’t let himself allow to think like this – to think that he was too late, that whatever he would do was futile. He couldn’t simply return into his cottage without doing anything.

Thorin would not give up on Bilbo.

 

***

 

With growing frustration Thorin tried to open the lock.

It was the fourth lock he was opening tonight like a robber on his raid, and his patience as well as his concentration had reached a low point by now. He had entered two storage rooms and a barn like this, and three times his desperate search for a sign of Bilbo had led to nothing. Small buildings they had been, and he had found nothing more than shelves with wood and bricks or hay and bags of flour. At least his conscience had grown tired as well and didn’t plague him with images of shocked people who would discover in the morning that someone had broken into their property, dreading that they had been robbed of their existence.

Maybe he should finally give up.

The lock beneath his fingers broke as if to scold him for such gloomy thoughts, and the door of another warehouse swung open without a sound. Thorin found himself in a vast room full of empty shelves and dust-covered crates. He frowned. The inside had something forsaken about it – the lock on the door, however, had seemed rather new. Why should someone protect an empty place? It didn’t look like a derelict or dangerous place either, one that people shouldn’t enter in order not to hurt themselves.

Thorin moved along the empty shelves, and his irritation grew as he found a wardrobe in the far corner. It looked oddly out of place – just like the lock on its door. Unlike the wardrobe itself, it was new, and this time Thorin didn’t hesitate to pick it. He had never thought that he would actually make use of what Nori had taught him during their years of exile. This lock took him longer than the one at the entrance, though – his palms had become sweaty, and he was nervous. He knew that he was finally in the right place and that he would find something, but he didn’t dare to let his thoughts go further. His search might find an end here, but if for good or bad …

The lock gave in, but slipped out of his grip and hit the floor; the sound was threatening loud in the night. Thorin waited for long moments if he had alarmed somebody, but the storage room stayed quiet. Cautiously he opened the wardrobe and was surprised to find another door: The panel at the wardrobe’s back had been removed, and it had been used to hide this entrance.

Thorin climbed through it and finally stood in the forge he had been looking for all the time.

It was a very small one and only had basic equipment that every dwarf would scoff at. It would be sufficient, however, to make necklaces like the one Thorin had seen. But whoever was working here – they weren’t dedicated to their task with heart. The whole placed looked messy, soot-covered tools were carelessly spread around the forge. A plate with a half-eaten meal had been abandoned on the workbench, but the forge itself was cold. Nobody had been here during the last few hours.

Thorin took a look around. He found another door, plain and almost hidden behind some garbage, and entered a tiny chamber. A window high up in the ceiling let moonlight into the room, shining down on a glass box in its middle – a tank. An icy knot built in Thorin’s belly although his mind hadn’t processed the sight yet. He took a staggering step forward, closer to the figure that was curled up inside the tank.

Thorin realized that he had finally found what he had been looking for, but he didn’t feel the slightest success. He only felt cold terror now that he stood in front of the glass tank.

Bilbo was inside of the tiny box, his tail fin curled around him as if he was trying to hide. He didn’t stir. Thorin placed a trembling hand on the glass, but it evoked no reaction. His gaze fell on the few fingerbreadths of water that covered the bottom of the tank. It had a pink tinge to it. Blood.

Anger soared through his veins, and his first impulse was to simply push the tank over, to see it shatter on the floor. The noise would surely attract someone’s attention, but just let them come! Whoever had done this would regret encountering Thorin.

_You would hurt Bilbo._

Concern for the merman eased his rage a little, and he pushed the heavy lid off instead. A horrible stench spread – stale water and sweat and blood. Once more rage threatened to overwhelm him, but with great effort he shook it off. Cautiously he reached into the tank and lifted Bilbo out of it as gently as he could. Bilbo’s skin was hot to the touch and glistening with sweat, and his head lolled weakly against Thorin’s chest. A whine, barely audible above the frantic beating of the dwarf’s heart, passed his lips.

All of Thorin’s anger passed with that little sound, and all he could do for the moment was to hold Bilbo close.

 

***

 

Sometimes Bilbo dreamed.

At first he dreamed of warm blue eyes, of gentle hands that steadied him, of a tender voice that sang to him, and it made him feel safe and cherished. It was the kind of dream he wished to be true.

Now, however, he was caught in a nightmare.

His whole body ached terribly when he woke up, and it took him a while to realize that his world had shrunk drastically: He was caught in a tank so small that he could barely move; his tail fin constantly scrapped against the glass. There was a little water inside of it, but it barely covered the bottom and was stale; its smell made his stomach twist.

He felt dizzy, but he stirred nonetheless and pushed against the walls of his prison, frantically hoping to find a way out – a crack, maybe, or some other weak point he could make use of. But there was none. The glass was solid, and the lid on top of the tank only had tiny air holes. It didn’t move, no matter with how much strength he pushed. Fighting against his rising panic, Bilbo sank back and tried to calm himself.

He remembered the stranger – a knife against his neck, a glimpse of his scales before the world turned black. He wondered how much time had passed since then, and where he had been brought to. He couldn’t tell where he was; the tank itself stood amidst a cone of light, but beyond there was only darkness.

_I wonder if Thorin is looking for me._

He wrapped his tail fin around his body and hugged himself. Thorin couldn’t possibly know what had happened to him; the dwarf would probably assume that he had taken the necklace off himself and had returned into the sea. It would be a small miracle if Thorin had gone looking for him at all after Bilbo had run away like that.

He sniffed and raised his hand to wipe pearls of sweat from his brow. It was getting uncomfortable warm –

_Sunlight._

His eyes widened in horror as he began to understand. There was a window somewhere up in the ceiling – the tank stood amidst sunbeams – the sun was slowly heating the water up –

Bilbo arched up in panic and pushed against the lid as hard as he could, but with no avail. He pressed his face against its tiny air holes, desperate for the lightest wisp of air. He kept hammering his fists against the lid, yelling and begging.

Suddenly the lid was removed, and Bilbo surged up, greedy for fresh air. Relief flooded through him as he took deep breaths, making him dizzy. It didn’t matter as long as he got enough air.

He was blind for the person that approached the tank, and the punch came out of nowhere.

A hard blow into his face sent him back into the tank, blackening his vision. He wanted to get up again – he knew that he _had_ to get up again –, but his body wouldn’t listen.

Suddenly a searing pain shot through his side, by far worse than a jellyfish’s sharp bite. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound passed his lips. His body seemed frozen except for the throbbing pain, and the world stayed black.

When Bilbo opened his eyes again, he didn’t notice that the lid had been put on top of the tank again, and he didn’t realize that he was alone. All he could do was stare at the bloody spot where a scale had been ripped from his tail fin.

He felt strangely hollow and unaffected in this moment. Then, from one heartbeat to another, understanding crushed down on him. He trembled despite the heat inside of the tank. They had taken a scale from him. They would come back for another … and another … and he had no chance of escaping. He was helpless.

Slowly he curled his injured tail fin around himself and wept until exhaustion finally took its toll and he fell into a troubled sleep.

A scrapping noise woke him, and with new terror he realized that the lid was being removed again. His eyes snapped open, and he drew back into a corner of the tank, out of reach of those cruel hands.

But they didn’t reach for him. Instead a bucket of fresh water was thrown inside, cold enough on his heated skin to make him hiss. A piece of bread was carelessly thrown inside as well. Then the lid was closed, and Bilbo caught a glimpse of the man from the town square. His heart clenched with fear as he watched him disappear in the shadows, and he felt weak with relief when he realized that he wouldn’t return.

It didn’t last long, though – the man returned.

Bilbo told himself that he was strong, that he could get through this, and that the pain would cease. But it didn’t. Every scale that was torn from his body hurt worse than the last, and eventually he wasn’t even strong enough to cry out with pain. He didn’t try to catch a wisp of fresh air. He didn’t eat, but ignored the crumbs that were given to him. He didn’t stir when the lid was removed, but stayed limp in the water.

He didn’t dream of Thorin anymore.

He sobbed weakly. Oh, Thorin. The memory of his blue eyes was harder to grasp the more time passed, and one day Bilbo found that he couldn’t recall the warmth of his voice or the softness of his touch.

But eventually he didn’t care anymore.

 

**

 

Thorin carried Bilbo in his arms through the moonlit alleys of town.

The feeling of the merman’s feverish skin against his woke his urge to run towards the sea, towards safety as fast as he could, but at the same time he didn’t want to cause Bilbo any more discomfort. Eventually he fell into a quick step, trying not to shake the merman too much, but the sight of his cottage couldn’t appear fast enough.

He could finally see its silhouette against the sky when Bilbo suddenly stirred. He muttered something – it was little more than a sigh, but to Thorin it meant more than thousand words. A heavy weight fell from his shoulders, and his step became lighter at once.

“I’m here, Bilbo.” He lowered his head to nuzzle the matted curls. “We’ll be at the sea soon.”

“Tho … rin?”

“Yes, I’m here. Do you hear the waves already, Bilbo? Do you smell the sea? Take a deep breath, we’re almost there.” He kept talking to Bilbo like that, quietly and comfortingly, until they finally reached the sheltered beach at Thorin’s cottage. The dwarf didn’t bother to kick his boots off, but kept on going. He moved across the sand and waded into the water. It soaked his clothes but he moved on. Eventually he knelt down, Bilbo still in his arms.

The merman uttered a small whine as the cool water embraced him, and his tail fain twitched several times. Thorin scooped some water and gently washed dirt and sweat from Bilbo’s face. Then he took his hand, felt the fine webs between the fingers, and drew soothing circles across its back. He watched how Bilbo’s breathing grew easier as the world around them slowly woke up.

When the first rays of the sun appeared above the horizon, Bilbo’s eyes fluttered open. The merman blinked, fatigued and confused, until his gaze focused on Thorin.

“My singer”, he whispered with a faint smile upon his lips. “Would you sing me a song?”

Thorin gave his hand a gentle squeeze, lowered his head and began to sing. He did so quietly, close to Bilbo’s ear. Thorin didn’t sing for anyone but the merman, and he sang even when Bilbo’s body had relaxed in his arms and he had fallen into a deep slumber.

 

***

 

Thorin carried Bilbo to the shallow pool where he had rested during his transformation into a hobbit. His drenched clothes left a trace of water drops, but instead of changing he sat down on the rocks and watched over the merman’s sleep.

He had looked peaceful while Thorin had sung to him, but now his slumber became fitful; his eyes moved behind his lids, and he scrunched his face. Before the dwarf could start another song, his eyes snapped open, and he sat upright. For long moments he stared frightfully at the dwarf, not able to recognize him. Thorin’s heart ached, but he didn’t know if he could reach out to comfort Bilbo or if he would only startle him. Despite the lump in his throat, he showed him a smile.

“Thorin?” The fear in Bilbo’s eyes subsided, and he sank into the water again.

“Rest, Bilbo”, he said gently. “I will watch over you.” He finally dared to touch him and placed a hand on Bilbo’s cheek. “Nobody will hurt you, I promise.”

The merman’s eyes were still wide, but then he closed them again. He leaned into the touch, and Thorin caressed his cheek with all the tenderness he could muster. “Thank you”, he mumbled. “I’m tired indeed.”

“Then sleep. I’ll stay with you.”

It wasn’t long before Bilbo’s breathing became level again. He would still murmur in his sleep from time to time, but whenever that happened Thorin hummed a few tunes to ease him, and the merman relaxed again.

It was about midday when Bilbo woke up again, this time startled by a loud call that alerted Thorin as well.

“Master Dwarf!”

The call came from the cottage, and Thorin eased a little when he noticed that the bright voice belonged to a child. While he got up, his eyes searched for Bilbo. The merman in turn stared towards the cottage. His eyes were wide with fear, but he seemed to be frozen otherwise.

“Probably a customer”, the dwarf tried to appease him. “I’ll send them away.” He hurried towards the cottage.

A young boy stood in front of the door; he had just raised his hand to knock on it.

“Master Dwarf”, he began with a polite little bow. “My father sends me. One of his tools broke –”

“I’m sorry, but my forge will be closed for a while”, Thorin interrupted him. His response earned him a curious glance, so he quickly added: “I need to do some repairs before I can take requests again.” He was about to ask the boy to leave when an idea occurred to him; he had just remembered the backpack full of groceries he had forgotten in the middle of town the day before. “Could I ask you a favour? I’m in the middle of those repairs right now, and I can’t leave right now. I’m in need of some groceries, though. Could you get them for me? For some pocket money, of course.”

The boy agreed readily, and Thorin put together a shopping list.

When the boy was on his way back into town, the dwarf hurried to Bilbo.

The merman looked as if he might disappear into the water at the slightest sign of danger, but Thorin showed him an appeasing smile.

“It was just one of the children from town”, he explained. “I asked him to get some groceries for us, so he’ll be back in an hour or two. There is no need to be afraid of him.”

“I see. But I … I’m not hungry.” Bilbo’s voice was flat.

“Try to eat a little nonetheless, okay? You’ll need it to regain strength.”

“I see”, Bilbo repeated and fell silent. He seemed to be lost in thoughts, and the dwarf didn’t urge him to speak at first. But when he saw that Bilbo’s face darkened and fear crept into his eyes, he tried to distract him with some easy chatting. He talked about every light topic that occurred to him – a project he was thinking about, if the boy would bring them some blueberries, or that the cottage might need new painting soon. The merman didn’t seem to listen, but he stirred when the boy finally returned.

It had taken him more than just an hour or two; the sun was almost setting when Thorin heard him approach. With a comforting smile to Bilbo he got up to meet him in front of the cottage.

“Sorry I’m late, but there’s some hubbub in town”, the boy explained while handing Thorin the groceries. “There have been some burglaries last night, and the town guards already found the culprit! They investigated all sites, and in one of them they found him, hiding like a thief in his cave! He denied everything, of course, but there was lots of suspicious stuff in his hide-out. He claimed to be a travelling merchant, but it seems they also found some stolen goods …”

The boy kept babbling, but Thorin only listened half-heartedly. So they had found that bastard that had made Bilbo suffer, and they would probably put him into jail for his crimes … at least some of them. He didn’t feel any satisfaction, though. He could only think of the haunted expression in Bilbo’s eyes.

When the boy stopped for a moment to take a breath, he thanked him for his assistance and paid him generously. He made sure that the boy was on his way back into town indeed before he stepped into his cottage to quickly store away the purchases.

He returned to Bilbo with an apple and some berries, but Bilbo still said that he wasn’t hungry. After some prodding, he at least nibbled at a few apple slices.

“Do you need anything?” the dwarf asked anxiously. “Some medicine, maybe, or some ointment for your wounds? I’ve still got some left and could –”

“No!” Bilbo’s exclamation was like a burst; the merman himself seemed to be startled by it. He swallowed heavily, then he slumped down. “I’ve climbed out of the water while you were gone. The scars … I don’t want you to see me like that. I … I look disgusting.”

“You don’t.” Not knowing how to comfort Bilbo apart from such phrases, Thorin moved closer to the pool’s edge and let his feet dangle into the water. “They will heal. All scars do.”

With a suppressed sob, Bilbo huddled close and rested his head against Thorin’s thigh. He didn’t speak, and the dwarf didn’t push him. He gently carded his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, and the merman leaned closer to him.

“It might rain soon”, Bilbo mumbled eventually. Thorin only hummed; the sky had turned grey indeed. “You should get inside, or you’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Bilbo fell silent again. Wordlessly they watched the gathering of the clouds, and how the world darkened as the sun set. Thorin still had his hand in Bilbo’s hair, and the merman’s form was soft and warm against his thigh.

“I love you, Bilbo”, Thorin whispered when the first raindrops fell down on them.

He wasn’t sure if Bilbo had heard him. He was quiet, maybe he had already fallen asleep. But Thorin thought that his grip around him tightened slightly.

 

***

 

Thorin woke up and immediately searched for Bilbo.

It had become some kind of habit during the last days, and by now his gaze had already settled on the merman before Thorin had properly woken up. The sight of the familiar head of copper curls made him feel easier at once.

Bilbo wasn’t far away from the shore; he was holding on to the big rock. His lower body stayed in the water.

He had started to swim again only a few days ago – he had begun cautiously, moving slowly and always staying close to the rocks to find support. If Bilbo had been on land, the dwarf would have described his movements as staggering. But with growing confidence, Bilbo had dared to move further away from the shore.

Thorin got up and stretched; his muscles were tight from another night on the stone, only softened a little by his sleeping mat. The nights grew chiller already, and autumn fog would soon replace the deep blue of the late summer sky. Luckily there hadn’t been much rain. He had to think of something, though, if he wanted to sleep close to Bilbo’s pool. Maybe he could build some shelter …

Bilbo had noticed him by now, and he let go of the rock and swam towards him.

“Good morning”, Thorin greeted him. The merman, however, only nodded. His face was earnest, and Thorin felt a lump in his throat.

“I have to leave”, Bilbo said quietly.

“Of course.” He knelt down to be closer to Bilbo. He drank in his features – the soft lips, the freckled nose, and the blue, blue eyes – as if a part of him had already understood that he wouldn’t see his merman again. He tried to keep his face neutral and his voice level. “I guess I saw it coming.”

His words brought a soft yet sad smile on Bilbo’s face. “It’s not what you think.” He reached out to take Thorin’s hands in his, and the dwarf clung to him as if he was in the water, about to drown. “I made a promise to my mother. I promised her that I would return to her before fall. It’s time, I can feel it. The water grows colder, and my kin will travel into warmer regions soon. I will go with them. But, Thorin …” The merman squeezed his hands. “Thorin, I want to return to you.”

“You do?” Thorin’s voice was fond, but he couldn’t banish that spark of disbelief from it. “After everything …”

“After everything, I do.” Bilbo smiled gently, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He stared intently at Thorin as if he tried to memorize him, just like the dwarf did with him. Then Bilbo leaned a little forward as if he wanted to say something. He decided against it, however, and sank back into the water.

Thorin understood. “Goodbye, Bilbo.” Their hands were still intertwined.

“I will see you in spring, Thorin.”

With a last smile, Bilbo let himself sink into the water, and his fingers slipped out of Thorin’s grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for putting poor Bilbo through all of this *hides beneath a blanket* But I promise a happy end!! I really really do!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Thorin stood on the beach , he knew that it was still too early to go out on the rocks and look for the merman. Winter hadn’t loosened its grip on the land fully yet; Bilbo and his kin wouldn’t be back yet.  
> Thorin kept himself busy with errands for the townspeople. There was a lot of work to do for him, and with every day the fire in his forge was lit, the temperatures outside rose as well. The air grew warmer, the sun became brighter, and one morning Thorin woke up and knew that the day had come.

The air was still crisp, bearing a last trace of winter, when Thorin returned to his cottage at the sea. The water was of a clear mirror-like blue, just like the sky above. He inhaled deeply, tasting the salty air and feeling his heart and mind easing at once.

Winter had been cold and dark, but there had been light and warmth as well – in the form of his nephews and his sister. When the days had grown shorter, he had travelled east again. This time a raven had announced his arrival, and when he had stepped into his kin’s warm home, a place at the table had already been set for him.

“You look less troubled than last time”, Dís had remarked after a tight hug and a scrutinizing look at his face. Fíli and Kíli had been more than happy to see him, but at the same time they had complained that he hadn’t brought his beloved with him and that they wouldn’t get to know him. Dís had chided them for being so nosy, but had hardly been able to hold herself back; she had been burning with curiosity to learn more about Thorin’s encounter with Bilbo.

She had visibly paled when she had heard of the merman’s captivity and of the scars he would bear from now on. She had also smiled softly, though, when Thorin had ended his story with the words: “And despite everything, Bilbo will return to me …”

“You don’t sound as if you can already believe it.”

“Well, it _does_ sound like a dream.”

“Then allow yourself to dream, brother.”

At first Thorin had been hesitant to do so. He had been afraid that thinking of Bilbo would hurt too much, that it would only stress how many weeks – even months – still had to pass until he would see his merman again. Instead, his memories of Bilbo had nourished the little spark of warmth inside his chest that was connected to the merman. He had missed Bilbo dearly, but it hadn’t been the kind of longing that made one’s heart ache as if it was about to break.

He would see Bilbo again in spring, and that thought never failed to bring a smile to his face.

Now, as Thorin stood on the beach again, he knew that it was still too early to go out on the rocks and look for the merman. Winter hadn’t loosened its grip on the land fully yet; Bilbo and his kin wouldn’t be back yet.

Thorin kept himself busy with errands for the townspeople. There was a lot of work to do for him, and with every day the fire in his forge was lit, the temperatures outside rose as well. The air grew warmer, the sun became brighter, and one morning Thorin woke up and knew that the day had come.

He got out of bed and dressed himself quickly before hurrying outside until he stood on their usual meeting spot on the rocks. It was still early, the world seemed to be asleep. The sea was quiet, its surface calm and even like a mirror.

Thorin began to sing.

His deep voice filled the quiet air and carried far across the water. It was the song he had sung for Bilbo on the day they had first met – the song of the fall of Khazad-dûm and the separation of the lovers, of their long search for each other. Back then he had sung every stanza apart of the last one – the one that told of the lovers’ reunion and that was meant to be performed by two singers.

This time Thorin didn’t stop with the second last stanza, but kept on singing. He sang of the moment the lovers, after being separated for long years and searching desperately for each other during their people’s exile, laid their eyes upon each other and fell into each other’s arms.

As Thorin sang of their reunion, another voice joined him. At first it was so quiet that the dwarf believed his ears had played a trick on him. But the voice, bright and clear, grew louder, singing in a language he didn’t know. It mingled with his own voice as if the two had always been meant to sing together.

With the lover’s kiss, Thorin’s voice faded, and he felt like waking up from a deep trance. His heart was hammering wildly against his chest. It didn’t slow down, but kept beating loud in the silence that followed the song. He stared at the water, hoping for familiar copper curls and blue eyes to appear. The water stayed calm, though. Thorin sank on his knees and brought his face close to the water’s mirror-like surface. He kept gazing into its depths, not daring to blink once. He had been so convinced to hear a voice singing with him, but now –

Suddenly the water parted as if a veil had been drawn apart, and Bilbo appeared.

“Hello, my singer”, he said tenderly. He placed his hands on Thorin’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

The caress was rather awkward at first. Bilbo simply pressed their mouths together, and the intensity of the feeling left Thorin rather shocked and unable to react. But within heartbeats, their kiss melted into something infinitely soft. The fine webs between the merman’s fingers were soft like silk against his neck, pulling him gently towards him. Bilbo’s lips bore a taste of seawater, and Thorin searched them out full of yearning.

“Was … was this alright?” Bilbo asked shyly when they drew apart.

“Al … alright?” Thorin was dizzy. The world spun around him; the only point of focus were the bright blue eyes in front of him.

“The kiss.” A deep blush crept over Bilbo’s face, almost making the freckles on his nose disappear. “I have never kissed anyone before so I wasn’t sure if I did it right …”

“It’s perfect.” Thorin kissed him once more. At the same time he placed his hands on Bilbo’s waist and pulled him out of the water, right into his arms. Bilbo let out a surprised laugh as they almost fell back together, but their lips found each other again quickly. The merman snuggled up to him. His skin was soft and cool beneath Thorin’s palm, and as his hand slid a little deeper he felt Bilbo’s scales beneath it. They reminded him of a thin piece of gold foil, soft and yielding yet with a certain rigidity to it.

Then he felt something different beneath his fingers – the angry line of a deep scar. Too late he realized that he shouldn’t touch Bilbo there, and his fingers twitched nervously, about to draw back. Bilbo, however, placed a hand above his and squeezed it, keeping it in position. His fingers brushed over the dwarf’s wrist and his bracelet with the tiny shells.

“I missed you”, Bilbo eventually whispered. His face was close to Thorin’s, barely separated by a hair’s breath.

“I missed you too.” The dwarf tilted his head slightly and rubbed his nose against Bilbo’s, just like the merman had taught him. He did so with a firm yet gentle pressure, hoping that this was the correct way to express more than just gratitude. It probably was, judging from the way Bilbo’s breath hitched.

“Thorin”, he said, his voice tight, “I want to give another scale for us.”

The dwarf drew back, and for the first time he looked away from those blue eyes and examined Bilbo’s tail fin. Deep scars loomed amidst the dark green scales, and white veins next to the golden ones indicated more of them. A lump built in his throat. He hadn’t been aware that so many scales had been taken from his merman.

“No, Bilbo”, he said as gently as he could although his heart was breaking while he spoke, “you can’t stay on land. It’s not just about the danger of people finding out who you really are. I can’t separate you from your family, your home … That’s why … why I couldn’t kiss you on that day back in the forge.”

Bilbo brushed his lips against his, a gentle plea: _Don’t let this be a farewell kiss._

The dwarf swallowed. “If there was a way I could come with you instead …”

“Oh Thorin …” Bilbo kissed him once more, this time with more determination. “You’re too noble for your own good.” He smiled fondly at him. “You can’t bear the thought of me having to leave my home and my family behind, and yet you offer to do the same for me. You’re hopeless.” He shook his head, but the smile was still on his lips. “I have to admit that I had the same thought. I was wondering if there could be a way to turn you into a merman. Then I could show you my world, and thus thank you for all your kindness.”

“Is there a way?” Thorin asked quietly. He raised a hand and carded his fingers through Bilbo’s hair; water droplets glistened on his curls like tiny gems.

“There is”, the merman answered in the same hushed voice. “When we were in the southern regions, I met a wizard – not Gandalf, though; his name was Radagast. He told me that such a spell could work in many ways, and that it could transform a merman into a hobbit just like it could transform … a dwarf into a merman. But, Thorin – I will not ask you to leave your home and kin for me.”

The dwarf smiled sadly. “Just like I will not ask the same from you.”

“But there is something else I want to ask you, Thorin.” Bilbo’s tail fin curled softly around him. “Would you share a pendant with me?”

“Share …?”

“If the spell works both ways … then we could share it. For half of the year I could walk next to you on land, and for the other half you could swim next to me in the sea. So I am asking you to share your home and family with me. Your life. Just as I’m offering to share mine with you.” The merman couldn’t meet his gaze anymore. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“You’re asking for nothing I’m not willing to give.” Thorin placed a finger beneath Bilbo’s chin and turned it slightly until the merman looked into his eyes again. “I’ll gladly share everything I’ve got with you.”

“Thorin …” With a smile, Bilbo cupped the dwarf’s face. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but sincere. “I don’t want to be separated from you again. I love you, and I want to be with you.”

For long moments Thorin couldn’t answer. He could only look at the face in front of him – the gentle smile, the freckled nose, the sea-blue eyes. “I love you too”, he finally breathed, “and I want to be with you. On land and in the water.” He chuckled as Bilbo’s tail fin brushed against his legs again. “So this is our plan – we wait for Gandalf and ask him to craft another pendant with us?”

Bilbo nodded. “I only hope we will meet him soon.”

“Don’t worry, Gandalf has a habit of knowing when he is needed. I’m sure that he will arrive here soon. In the meantime …” Thorin’s hand settled on Bilbo’s hips, pulling the merman closer. “We have to while away the time.”

“I may have an idea or two for that.” Bilbo smiled and brought his face closer to Thorin’s. “You know, I quite like the way you land-dwellers express your affection.”

 

***

 

Thorin woke from a deep and dreamless sleep. His eyelids fluttered open, and he smiled as Bilbo’s face appeared in his field of vision. It faded, however, as soon as he noticed the merman’s concerned look.

“How do you feel, love?”, Bilbo asked anxiously. He leaned closer, almost bumping his forehead against the dwarf’s in his attempt to eye him properly.

“Quite fine”, he replied, smiling again to ease him. His own heart grew lighter as the frown between Bilbo’s brows vanished. “Still a bit tired, though.” Thorin stretched himself, and that was the moment he realized that something was different – very different.

His lower body felt different. Moving his legs shouldn’t feel like … like this. He looked down. On his chest rested a pendant. It was crafted from a perfectly round, dark green scale, and one half of it was covered with a net of fragile silver wires; the green scale shone through it like a jewel. Thorin looked further down. His lower body was in the water, but he saw the tail fin with its dark green scales clearly.

“So it worked”, he breathed.

“It did.” Bilbo smiled at him; relief and happiness mingled on his face. “You’ve got beautiful scales, if I might be so bold.”

Thorin tried to move his lower body and was rather startled when his tail fin broke through the surface with a splash and sent little water drops flying into the air. He tried once more – carefully this time. His scales were of a dark green, similar to Bilbo’s, but a shade darker, and the golden veins were scattered more scarcely than the merman’s, but shone brighter.

“I like them”, he observed with a smile at Bilbo. “Everybody will know that we belong together.”

The merman’s gaze grew tender, but before he could reply anything Gandalf reminded them of his presence with a cough.

Both of them showed him an apologetic smile. “Thank you, Gandalf”, Thorin said warmly, and Bilbo added: “We owe you more than we can put into words.”

Much to their surprise and delight, the wizard seemed to be embarrassed by their gratitude. “Please, don’t mention it. I’m glad I could help, but all of this wouldn’t have worked without your efforts.” His eyes twinkled beneath the rim of his pointy hat. “Besides, it’s heart-warming to see you both united. You make a lovely couple.”

Bilbo blushed most endearingly right to the tips of his ears. Thorin reached for his hand – the fine webs between his own fingers added a thrilling softness to the touch – and pulled him close enough to brush his nose against Bilbo’s.

“I wonder what your parents are going to say.”

The merman laughed softly. “Why so nervous, my heart? You’ve already met them, after all! They’re rather fond of you, or they wouldn’t have come to the surface to visit us during summer – several times at that.”

“Rather fond, you say?”

“Even very fond. Although …” Bilbo pressed his nose a little harder against his, and his tail fin curled playfully around Thorin’s. “Not as fond as _I_ am of you.”

Another cough had them look up.

“It seems you’ll be doing fine without me from now on.” Gandalf shook his head, but an amused smile was on his face. “I still have business in town to do, so I won’t leave for a while. If you should need any help, I’ll come to the coast regularly. Keep an eye out for me.”

Both of them thanked him until the wizard turned red-cheeked and made his way back into town while mumbling into his beard. They watched his tall figure step along the rocks until they couldn’t see him any longer.

Then Bilbo turned to Thorin. “Are you ready? I can’t wait to show you my world.” He left the sheltered pool with ease and swam into deeper water.

Thorin tried to follow him, but his movements were cautious and uncertain. He only got out of the pool by using his arms and clinging to the rocks. As soon as he was in the open water, his body seemed to drag him down, and it took him some effort to keep his head above the water. He swallowed a few gulps of salty water nonetheless.

Somehow he had hoped that he would be able to move his tail fin by instinct. But now it seemed he had to actually learn how to use them. It would be a straining task, and his courage fell.

Thorin looked up, and his eyes found Bilbo. The merman was right in front of him, waiting with open arms and a smile on his face. The sight pulled at his heartstrings.

“Don’t worry, my love. I will take care of you.”

With a strong, determined twitch of his tail fin, Thorin swam forward, right into Bilbo’s waiting arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we've arrived at the end of the story! Thank you for reading - and I apologize once more for the angst! I hope the fluff in this chapter made up for it ;)


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